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Life is mingled with thine,
Mangled with masks and watch-clocks.
They’re looking for water in a drought.
You see, death is the labor of birth.
And when they come again, really look at their root.
Light your imagination, dip your pen.
Watch for the wave, bitter short breaths.
Look to your light,
And look down at it.
Oh what a lonely god.
Lonely god.

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