of things reflecting

Behind the curtain
light seeps in the dim
and colorful stacks
of things reflecting
over the blank walls
Behind the curtain
it is almost as bright
as the strong sunrise
in whose shadows
the empty day waits
Behind the curtain
feet are placed firmly
columns made of rocks
and water moves slow,
clear enough to drink
Behind the curtain
waiting another year
the pencil moves
on a vacant page,
the hand warm with sun

2 thoughts on “of things reflecting

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