When I outdoors in private misty dark
Survey the firsts to separate away
From blur, these stars come forth and make their mark;
Yet fog of false light keeps the real at bay.
The ground’s the culprit that emits this light
That disillusions me, and makes me see:
From nearby town this sick-orange shade is spat,
and forces focus on least entity.
Again I find myself by ground confined;
Surrounding sounds now hold me in clenched hand.
I strive in vain to reach out with my mind,
To hear sea’s sounding buoy from loud land.
Life’s higher callings are this way suppressed
By things that people sooner must address
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