When your eyes,
pause on the ball,
that hangs on the third branch from a star,
you remember why it is dark and why it gets light again.
The earth (like the heart) slopes in it's seat
and like that it travels along an eliptical path,
drawn into the darkness.
An unpolished pearl, in sky-black, palm of hands
And you yourself, you are,
recieving radicance from others.
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