Tryst with Truth

The real art, availth
a blue vein
of a softer yield

No pride, bubble
croaking frog
in shallow water

Finer strokes
comes wakeful
munificent of a touch

By one proofing
It dwelt a gain
to my beating heart

The real art, plexes
a frill
to its proven kind

No rank, crow
a black art
to its bill

Form comes from formless
to yield it back again
Tryst with truth, availth

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