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He lies quiet now In the nothing And there is no epitaph No stone Yet - his legacy flows Like a river Walker of barren paths Seer of night Friend of shadows A carrier of light And his legacy flows Like a river from ice The hungry heart opens And drinks from this fountain So cold There are no promises In his solitary grave There is no salvation Only words But what then are these precious streams Of coldness from the heights? They will never reach the fields below What is this silent grave? To those who never sought to find it? What is greatness to the dead? And his legacy flows Like a river from ice The hungry heart opens And drinks from this fountain So cold |
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