| There’s somewhere that I have been meaning to revisit
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| In and among all, even as its true nature is hid
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| Here, in the gloaming and black night
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| Here, in the dawn and the golding bright
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| There is a design with the larger in the smaller
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| I found it in time and the lethargy of matter
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| Sing, as would a white bird of mine
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| Here, in this hall of a thousand rooms
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| I’ve seen it at night tessellating and unfolding
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| Sheer gossamer threads, delicate and sacred shimmering
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| And if you reached for it, it would shatter
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| As things that you’d hold quickly fade away
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| There’s something that’s grown, spreading underneath through each inside
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| Go see for your own, more and more the air is rarefied
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| Now that the spires are crumbling down
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| And new holes appear where there once were none
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| If you should become separated from the restless herd
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| And you’re hearing that hum, know that to this place you may return
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| Wandering alone in a city of towers
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| One with the leaves and mycelia |