gather sun
or gather trust
the high ideals
just gather dust
in mirrored halls
on carousels
we rise and fall
heaven and hell
the transference
from pain to bliss
the relevance
of all we miss
amid the living
mortal stream
taking or giving
the same it seems
an ancient tome
no words within
adrift or home
we must begin
to glimpse at dawn
amid temporal shift
what's here, not gone
or e'er remain adrift
bereft of all the grace
of those who draw in turn
from smiles upon the face
the will to somehow yearn
to feel a finer state
to bleed out the defect
in hopes we don't abate
all feeling, in effect
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