In other times
When night and day
Were not as one
There came a foal
And she appeared in
Gloaming grey
As white as bone
And black as coal
Some say she stole Away the sun
The candle
From the evening sky
And in the hole
The moon she spun
A single Soul-deceiving eye
In truth the mare
Was not a thief
But wary watcher of
The in-between
The guardian
Of all our grief
And catcher
Of a wayward dream
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