after path

Lustrous, rainy, incandescent;
 glowing like an apple on the hill
 where once lived Ganymede,
 transcendent like a modal scale,
 an afterworld, come somewhere from
 before --

Strange and hopeless, only dreaming;
 burnished in the way we clean up thoughts
 that reach their Terminus,
 abjectly as we craw back into
 afterthoughts, come somewhere from
 before --

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