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I'll let the season die,
gently on my shoulders,
watch the sun speed quick
away from this corner of the world...
I'll not mourn the leaves;
they fell green in to my heart-
unspoiled by times hand...
Later, I'll cherish all of it.
I'll not rage or sulk this day;
all things pass, even this, even life,
to face the coming night needs courage...
the path is strewn with fallen dreams,
the snow reflects us back to ourselves,
to see what is really there...
to survive the cullings of the soul,
without too many lies,
to tend, to attend all