The dust accumulated from a span
Of years that reaches well into the past,
In folders placed from back when it began;
Discrete events across a distance, vast.
Like vapors freed by comet's forward cast,
Receding, fading like a tail mundane.
Will aught of this trajectory remain?
Or pass by undetected, with no trace?
Or counting all as loss, seek better gain:
To know...
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