Of course, the rainbows' brightness fades, but where does its glory go;
For all the wonder it parades, is it above or far below?

Like meliorating a shooting star, whose shinning font is hewn,
As a blazing flame, light-years afar, in the eye of a gibbon's moon.

The chase, a harbinger of ebbing tides, into the vast gulf of space,
Are dervishes of spinning pride, as the blush on Yahweh's face.

As salty rhythmic seas cascade, a torrent requiem in the wind;
The sublime sageful dawn is made, and sleeping winds resend.

Across the meeds of measured space, slip whirligigs of endless thought;
In black times, in a marshaled pace, may find the rainbow's hiding place.

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Something to contemplate for a friend of mine.