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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1580511
The Thing, what is the thing?

Oh! how long my journey was,
over the seas and the lands.
It was but one thing for a secret,
something carries the joy and its strands.
You can see it aglow in the mothers' eyes,
on in the hands of a father and son.
It is in the oldies' laughters and smiles,
it is hidden in the rays of the sun.

But over the all,
you miss it all,
but to one heart of a bless.
And here you are,
not very far,
from an eternal highness.

Some say it is such a vague,
the way you send your hopes along.
But what does it matter when,
Life passes away and to what you belong?
Thus spread the wings over the moon,
fly as no free bird ever tried.
When time comes afore its time,
then surely your heart is satisfied.

You find it so near,
in what the heart can bear,
or in a smile over the blessed.
Just take your time,
and enjoy the rhyme,
with a love sweet and placid.
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