how fresh the world was
complex and still strange
as we crossed shark-filled
seas with little thought
of what bright magics in the
clouds were caught
or what the cities past the
mountain range
would have for us instead we
sought the grange
the country quiet where
oldest rules were taught
in plainest movement from
old is to ought
from then to now where all
we did was change
into clear selves who know
the middle way
by just refinement of that
youthful choice
made all rejoicing under
bluest sky
for we who learn the paths
and tracks of day
know it's no simple thing to
have a voice
and far more difficult to
keep an eye
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