The Mortal Epiphany

Endless I traverse through mind-
Eden shall I call,
Wood nymphs treading grass-
picking lilies by the fall.

Across the dream I run
like cotton clouds afloat,
as the sky crowned sparrows
chirp my stead by the moat.

I sift and sink past metal
withered to seas of dunes,
and I water the tin foil petal
fated to the sulfur fumes.

Sands and me alike
for eons they sieve with screens,
as I pulse through copper veins
of gods and man-machines.

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