Having a cup of English Breakfast tea,
On a cold morning, aft of the solstice,
A revelation of sorts occurs to me,
That could have come earlier, but
Perhaps flew too low and stealthily,
And avoided detection... now revealed,
Like turning on a dim forgotten light
In a dust-dark room, long sealed
In the back of my mind, where lost
Hopes and bad dreams had congealed,
This revelation, wordless and recondite,
May be a step towards wisdom, peace,
A meeting with things beyond my sight.
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