(Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5)
Out, out, brief candle—flicker, fade,
A tiny light in life’s grand parade.
For life’s but a wisp, a fleeting flare,
A moment’s breath in the cosmic air.
We light our candles, then they die,
In the blink of an eye, we sigh.
But what if life’s not a race to chase,
But simply a candle in a cluttered...
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