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A Mote of Dust in the Morning Sky
In a downtrodden shack, where embers dance
sits a blaze of a man, elated and sad
heart of hold, fringes of black
cursed ambition, cursed romance
he has bet his existence, his soul upon chance
'Midst the terrace garden, primordial Greece
cries a gem-strewed damsel, unblemished, unfreed
emerald eyes, attire gauze-weave
fettered in time, fettered like fleece
she has summoned the tide, thine lives' sweet release
Beside the ageless glow, the vacuum of space
resides an ancient growth, of love and of hate
fear the unknown, unknowing displaced
blessed resistance, blessed embrace
we are brood of the glow; all things, one race
Scratch your heads, give up your arms
it is futile to fight, a cosmic bazaar
beyond the horizon, to know what you are
to speak to yourself, to be heard by the stars
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