In dreams left for the waking,
Where sweat collects at your temple,
Sands of time webbing your eyes know--
Life's meant for the weak and simple.
Only in that blissful nothing,
Free of thought and feeling the same,
Does the heart discover conscience
And begin to recognize the name.
So when roads diverge in that wood,
That damned forest turning left and right—
Strain the eyes from stumbling feet
And look toward the soul’s light.
Because in the end of all this trouble
With days churning over in starry sea,
When hope has spread wax wings—
Remember, the sun’s heat is only me.
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