Nor could he accept who once he was,
From the ashes his blood shall mould,
From ash image anew shall form,
Here neath come man he ought to be.
The space between him and world far,
A breath of light this sun dispel,
As strangers known in kindled grey,
As bitter friends, himself betray,
And all the days in mieu regained,
In he married, in joy retained,
Now small hills keep watch of spelt sun,
Rays would write his name in gold,
The steps he take now a stone print,
To look back, and all that comes here.

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Family, Poetry, Works
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