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Oct 2014
What stands after nothing,
what grows in the night?
What answers the calling,
what soothes untreated sight?
Tonight, without knowing,
know we sustained the right,
here now, without crumbling,
fight the dust in the mite.
We'll delight in the other,
never smother the fight...
but when hopeless
feels dopeless,
always answer the cry.
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