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You didn't die young

How lucky it is to have winds of time weather your frame like sand, to have bones made feeble by age, to love till it rots, to have lived until spring rises from your heart. Someday, when your eyes would open like the sunrise, and new birds would sing an old tale, you'll be an earthworm building a legacy, this world can never pull down.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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