Shrouding all the ground around me / Is this holy crow above me / Black as holes within a memory
And blue as our new second sun / I stick my hand into his shadow / To pull the pieces from the sand
Which I attempt to reassemble / To see just who I might have been / I do not recognize the vessel
But the eyes seem so familiar / Like phosphorescent desert buttons / Singing one familiar song...

The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.
Arthur C. Clarke


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