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Billowed cotton-weaved cloth

Filled with winds of hope

Spilling, over-flowing like the tide

Sweeping you ever onwards

Scything the waves like

Long forgotten words.

On mountain white-capped swells

Of surging truths you ride

A soaring oak-clad angel

Slicing, ceaseless momentum

Faith-borne on the breeze

Reaching ceaselessly forward.

Relentlessly rising on the ebb and flow

Carried by belief and reverie

A utopia-bound life

Expectation’s arms outstretched

Calling you ever

Like the Siren’s song.

 

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