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Ross Feb 2014
In a frantic world with fleeting desires
Of the same feather with fate conspire

Wind in an airy surge knows no path
Tunes of the wondrous gale join our hearts
Tumult of a mighty gust comes to pass
In love though in sadness so we dance

Sweetest of the gale is heard
Sadness from the gust we purge
In mighty harmony to heavens do our souls perch

— The End —