Desperately falling through thoughts that are free,
All that there is not all I see.
Vacant stillness under the spell,
Of the ancient gallery in which I dwell.
What is truth in seeking the real,
In what we perceive of all that we feel?
Cast under the shadow of my soaring silhouette,
Embracing all, living not to regret.
Now fade from this place until another time,
To fly with the messenger on the wings of this life.
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