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…
I stand as your witness heaving rise and fall, this wilting gale sings the breath of morning into me,
A blush of blossom, does not wait, the boundless fields do not chase, the seeping wanderers arrival,
The scattered crown of petals could not happen without the other,
So to cut to simple language, like this ragged leaf slices the air,
Courage? Is the gap between the action, the mist between seasons hides the troops.
