Section G

Violets of all variety drift to and fro

 

The graves of poppies

Parted by a sky

As blue

And as purple, as snow

 

We all meditate

Try and find our sun

 

Some more than others

Some realising they have not one

 

Trees hold our life span

Across leaves as plain as you may

 

Levitating matter

Deprived, abyss-like minds

 

Oh sun,

When will thoust shine on me?

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