A fathom of existence appears between three stems,
Wavered by gusts flowing through open seems,
Within, torn asunder, a vision was sewn,
Hew through the canvas forth laid under snow,
A landscape once present shows but one pass,
Through emberless timber an oaken force present,
In the midst of the hallow flows the oaken root,
Entrapped presence gathers, entranced, instilled,
Under the moonlit cavern of timelessness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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