Shú told me a story once
I remember it so vividly
for I do not listen - but imagine it
like orichalchum flowers
which blooms and blossoms
with every touch.
It's as silence in wyrds
woven into minds eye
for all is created - projections
which flows in'n out
a butterfly which spreads its
wings and basks.
It does not know of it
where it flies or lands
for it depends on the winds
how it navigates :
It does so thoughtlessly
there I must be.
It flutters in between
the swords and bars
on the hand which wields
does it so stay
for a moment is it found
in battles rest.
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