The keys are separate
The metal keys are joined by metal rings,
with orientations of books pressed in,
they are silent except when they are moved,
and then they sound like little chimes.
The keys open the wooden doors simply,
without the speed of light enclosed by forms,
for years of one and thousand more behind,
they work by moving forts of steel away.
But a most painful state exists each day,
for metal keys are kept separate by will,
they are always kept on the left of one,
to keep them from objects that are fragile.
The form that holds the abacus small beads,
the form that holds the waves of the clear air,
they are special with worth and are fragile,
the fear of one is that the keys will harm.
The keys are filled with mere begin intent,
they have no will to harm the special forms,
and silently they do persist with life,
and hope that one will one day see this truth.
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