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forgotten now
the plan to dream
within the web of waking
to chase away the demons
from my door

to touch with care
the shadow’s snare
as tied to me – they wander
forsaken every thought
of holding on

what skillful trade
of turning truth
in perfect imperfection
from one – another way
reveals my own

undaunted
by the sleepless flight
spinners knit the darkness
blind but for these hands
to know their way

seamstress
of divine intent
fitted me for longing –
has stretched
my lowly threads
to catch the dream