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Bide, or, And you thought I was sleeping

It is a special thing, to fly,

It can’t be done lightly.


First you must purify yourself,

You must go deep within the earth

Before you take leave of it


I perform the ritual -

I bide.


Beautiful black earth -

You are my skin

I shape in your safe

Darkness, what cannot

Be touched


Still I taste the sun

In these neat white roots

The first alchemy

Gold out of air.


I will climb the air

When the time comes


I perform the ritual -

I bide.

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