What are you?

O you distant light…

What’s this difference with which you…

Tantalize my sight?

Is it true,

What they say about the might?

That it’s blue.

Blue like indecision peering over a great height?

The sort of hue,

that doesn’t assert right.

Just let’s it hang till true,

releases knuckles painted white.

To give view,

To give way to clearer sight.

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