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I asked the wind, the flyer,
Restive horse with cloud as rider Running unto world’s blue shore: Where are those who aren’t anymore? Where are those who aren’t anymore? Said the wind: Their wings I didn’t saw But felt all over through my flow. I asked the skylark, the frail, Votive light lulling in the air The hymn’s victor: Where are those who aren’t anymore? Where are those who aren’t anymore? Said the skylark: They hid inside That unlimited one’s magic light. I asked the owl with spherical eyes, The blind that see through dark and spies Mysteries untold by the word’s core: Where are those who aren’t anymore? Where are those who aren’t anymore? Said the owl: Without fail The great night will unveil
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