Think one is a thing but is not what you think
Beyond my words so rigidly formed
Such harshness would be to one's eye but a blink
Of such strangeness transformed
What be the rainbow sparks that bursts forth
At chance encounters upon which I balance
When your eyes are turned due north
And my vision partly shaded by a valance
Think again and yet again
A thing of fusion, windows and pain
Trespass not but in passing sustain
That which would otherwise be but vain rain
I tether my rain with a complex bow
And do an about-turn in the confusion through which I stumble
Stir a spark and add a pinch of glow
And watch as one humbly crumbles
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