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Even whilst the clouds fly their way,
Whilst the wind kept brushing past,
Nor did the mills cease their work,
Nor did the wood dislodge, break;
More the finest fibre within, taut;
Its breathing and illumined glow,
You can feel its light tremble slow,
But no more was it cast aside gone,
Always lit, but no spark stained light,
Better lone, lest light eclipses dark.
Then the wind shall blow its fibres loose,
Glow in the dark, each drop of rain fall:
Colour each fibre and see them wave,
Write your name, the wind commands,
Beneath the cliff is that name you know,
As we descend through the name,
Then its core shall be sought then held,
That core remaining star glimmers dim,
By whose shell and label remains unphased,
Not even weather shall dim it further,
We shall feed it adventure and enlighten it,
Not once faltering on the love we give,
Even if not to take, yet still light's given;
So once even the Sun can see it,
At least each cloud can reflect your rays.

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