To dream and fall, perhaps to fly,
Then fly we shall, trapped by all reality,
Never mind that one rather ghastly goodbye,
Flying or falling, how beastly,
How beastly the wind truly is then!
Hardly anyone could tell up from down,
As it howls in one's face unlike a wren,
Merrily chirping away on that gown,
Peaceful beauty the lost wind truly is,
When the eyes are ready to see beyond,
For eyes shan't belong to something that does,
Little less than to think and give respond,
Or so most of us think, lost in our thoughts,
Mayhaps forgetting to stop drawing lots
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