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Light whispers across barren sands
To red horizon.
In shade, deep valleys where I’ve been,
So far have I come.
And rising before me,
The footsteps stark, the beating hearts
Of those who came before.
The final rampart of this dream
Is taken back again
To the end.
Each step much the same as thousands passed,
Cold stone lasts forever.
Yet one step must surely be the last,
For even stone must weather.
And rising before me,
A chisel true might make anew
What stone was left unhewn.
With each strike the marble screams it’s pain.
Each mistake, the sculptor's only
Taken back again
To the end.
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