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On steadfast passage, I observe,
though I surely walk alone…
The soft moonlight cannot obscure,
footprints among the stones…
Have I walked this path before?
Perhaps these prints are mine?
I’ve traveled far, yet here they are,
they’ve stood the test of time.
These faded clues, by midnight hue,
have filled my mind with déjà vu…
Some memories form,
then try to leave.
But clues belie them I believe…
I journey through the dark of night,
to validate by morning light.
The tarnished traces, memories cast,
on stepping stones of travels past…
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