Close to the twilight of dawn,
Peace and rancor are yet to have bygone,
The breath we ascertain has been thought to have dimmed,
The light fondles with the blossoms that swim,
Brisking the surface of the waters,
and the nothingness begins,
Faces of you suddenly appear over the distant space,
and they all look at him.
The flood's never deep enough to wash away the sinsA present of artistic grasp,
The matter pierces the mind,
consider the facts,
When there is peace,
that is when we start to act.

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