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Spheres of Fire
We are instruments of an old design,
Used beyond our known control,
Bobbing on the breeze divine,
Along with secrets of the soul!
What years have passed, like shapeless clouds,
What fortunes have been lost and gained,
Through shifting sands and faceless crowds,
Where fragments of our dreams remained!
What mockeries we make of time,
As hapless tragedies transpire,
Yet still we claw and scrape and climb,
Towards those heavenly spheres of fire!
poem
by
Joshua Dinkin
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