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Thy Rare Gift (Poem)

Updated on September 13, 2014
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Doubting tendencies in suspension

For how long, who knows?

Not even I, who's in possession

Knows how thy "time" goes.


Every core longs for merely a taste

Of thy land's rare gift.

Though for thy sake, make waste not, nor haste

Nor thyself's adrift.


All the world says: "Life's but a segment

Of downfalls and dreams."

So are these fits of merriment

By one's lovely beams.


Soaring through skies of studded silver

Indeed, however

Keep thee sane; stray not to night's shiver

Or downhearts' ever.


Now, go flee to where thy heart takes thee

And feast over love

With whom this rare gift is meant to be;

None's less nor above.

-gm

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