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I should really have known
But I just didn't think
The beautiful sky
Entranced me
A mountain of cotton-white
Silver and pink
The moor aflame,
a fire on high
I rode in the joy
of the moment
Towards beauty.
Struck by the blizzard
High on the hill
Snow-blinded
By whiteness
And Frozen
I limp slowly home
Like the trembling hare
In a fable of prayer
All of that beauty
A rosy nightmare
And the cold silver sun
Was raging.

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