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Friend, you were my child
My mother also
Ages long past:
The worm is dead in the shell
The spark lit its ruin;
Saw my reflection
Stretching in crannies of earth
To hoard the last part of you:
In clay the earth gleams
How shall it hide its gold
Till you are lost out of story:
Uneven the falling of rain -
The yellow light unexpected
Dazzles the salvager
In a year without myths.
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