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Under Construction… This house of longingThis burning templebound by time must be rebuilt. Let Beauty spark the flameLight begets lightbreath of fire the windsincorporeal vapour
The End of the tunnel, What this holds is my own glimpse of loop, A lamp full of treacherous flow, Reminding us all our repetitive deeds, 
Under this veil of anonymous curtain, Gone rogue with my destiny to the mountains, I cried a hopeful bunch of nuts and crowds,  My only repertoire blazed in agony, 
Running green in our hands,  Dyed yellow in our eyes,  A distance of our own ancestral kin, Half of the distance shared by our people,
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