To the Philosopher

Pluck silver threads of signs
From the dross of every day
Hold to Heaven's music
On warm Summer's night
Hold someone in your arms
Offer to the world your trinkets
Pattern draped on folded pattern
Silk sheets wrapped around sweet forms
Ignore that you will be ignored
Find a few to share your dreaming
Sitting in cold Winter's hall
Weaving threads to tapestries
To keep the chill from off their wall


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