Glade

There is a glade 

in deepest woodland, 

lit by sunlight 

rising on a plain. 

Where hours 

pushed through, 

hours push on 

feet running amain. 

Lingered breaths

of the untold, 

are breaths carried 

without blame. 

For the blindfolded,

hearts open 

without shame. 

Steadfast in faith, 

far trailing 

on a sacred train. 

Night to night again, 

there is a glade

in deepest woodland 

from where 

I watch long rain. 

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