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Awake Awake. The Dreams of Youth; The grit in my eye. Such uncomfortable truth Distant. The Promise of Youth, The half murmur in the half-light, That withers with the shriek of time. Rise! A day formed of future’s glow. The dream, the promise delayed, Informs but does not persuade. For who could let the child speak when the man stands so ably by. In full form, with tended certainty, Resolve and open eye.
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