Orbits

There is less pressure to exert
Determined course of Moon and Earth
Than tour the chambers of my heart.

Untranslatable runes are deeply painted,
Where those who desecrate the sainted
Read aloud: ‘to strive without arrival’

And ‘here he sought and here he yearned’.
I closed my mouth, the world did turn;
One did fade, for the other’s survival.

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