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For most of us life passes like a dream,
Revealing only what is on our minds. Inside the prison of the self we see Each object as a shadow on our wall. Nothingness awaits, as sure as night. Did I not have you, dear friend, I might, Shadow on a shade, not be at all. How much we need a word beyond our sea: In love and laughter, thoughts of different kinds, Perhaps, with luck, unraveling a seam.
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