Again I walk with buttercups,
in the distance,
some bathe in shade.
Passing under a silent mighty tree,
sleeping on untroubled,
my weak shadow intrudes its gentle dream.
Yellow and white of flower,
sharing now one earth,
smiling at the sun,
in a liar's peace.

Hard rock upon the ground,
on dry, cracked earth,
recall this strange abode,
seeing for the first time,
quivering lakes of shadow,
sinking ever deeper,
'til all is lost and won,
while others float upon its skin...

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