Tapping out the blind

I stammered across the open flay
and gathered my thoughts awry
standing by the wayward winds
the aerie songs in pitch to fly,
and upon the slated restful tear
arose the open heartfelt clear
of the infinite laying road of sheer
that walks one on to the face of fear,
and here to say I speak no cheer
upon festivities of yesteryear,
for alone we die to the living sneer;
where the coil it sheds to the hearkening.

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