How Might One Be a Harbinger of Light
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|How might one be a
harbinger of light,|
A messenger of miracles to come?
Now we are inhabitants of night,
Unaware that once there was a sun.
Knowledge is the flower of belief,
Kept by green-thumbed gardeners of mind,
As beauty finds its apogee in grief,
Hard by the stones the world has left behind.
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