by Rolf Jacobsen
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It’s so delicate, the light.
And there’s so little of it. The dark
is huge.
Just delicate needles, the light,
in an endless night.
And it has such a long way to go
through such desolate space.
is huge.
Just delicate needles, the light,
in an endless night.
And it has such a long way to go
through such desolate space.