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Guiding Hand until the End of Time
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Life was was living, To be enjoyed.
Not to be imprisoned By this neverending structure.
The infinite template would never divert From its true path.
Giving up now was not an option, He tried to dispel his fears.
Giving up the ghost, A sharp intake of breath.
Degrees of freedom, Making the connection.
One by one the steps unfolded A symmetry beyond all human understanding.
Poet Resthreeia
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People who read
Poet Resthreeia
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