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By: shadowlight

Page 1, True purposes

It is of the light ever bright at night

Of the day that rises in a most common way

And the child’s eyes to a brand new tear

Or a lonely old man and his dying fear

The world of much has brought such

Such things of delight, such things of horror

But nothing more so in the ways

Of the heart – and of the soul

In the distance and as a whole

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