I have set you as the uneven in stars,
of the first majals given
made by me - to understand depth
and measurements of it
for the knot which can never
be untied or moved.
It is only to peek at dawn or twilight
for the cleansing wyrds
its wings which shelter the world
as scales which illuminate
then straighten it out as a bandage
over the horizons sets.
I make our songs, you sing them then
we bond with the majals
as wyrdings do we abstract reality
bend it to cleanse wounds,
for in sleep I am with you in the aires
when awake in the seas.
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