Like seelie in stasis you fight against a pull.
Yet what force you hold against mundane?
You try and try in vain
For those grounded to explain.
Though how could they comprehend,
A mind oh so arcane?
"I'm lost!" "You're strong"
"Fragmented and weak..." "but in focus and eloquence you speak"
How could they know?
They think seeing means just sight
And you...
The mist escaped your grasp.
And now empty handed
You have nothing to show.
So tell me... how could they know?
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