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The cool blue ripples reflect a solemn memory of a friendly smile once almost near
Of long dark hair freefalling from a faded star; a young mind once so clear
You put it in your vein that night you went to sleep under the cool blue rain
Why was it so soon? I stop to wonder inside the golden garden
What did you mask? I sit and ponder as the graceful leaves saunter to the ground
From green to gold they turn, then back into the soil for the silent rain to churn
They saunter to you as I sit and stare at the grey water that remains though you have left.
I am a fisherman of the wide open seas;
I speak these words to he who all need.
I am a seeker of the wisest Sage;
He who rests peacefully beneath the weeping willow tree.

To this Great Stone,
To this Vast Abyss,
May the former be broken
And the latter be filled.

To the Spirit in the Sky,
The one who is hidden from my weary eyes;
He who grants a Free Mind;
He who I seek but cannot find.

— The End —