| Source of all we hope or dread, sheepdog, jackal, rattler, swan
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| We hunt your face and long to trust that your hid mouth will say again
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| Let there be light, a clear new day
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| But when we thirst in this dry night
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| We drink from hot wells poisoned with the blood of children
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| And when we strain to hear a steady homing beam
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| Our ears are balked by stifled moans
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| And howls of desolation from the throats of sisters, brother, wild men
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| Clawing at the gates for bread
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| Even our own feeble hands aim to seize the crown you wear
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| And work our private havoc through the known and unknown lands of space
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| Absolute in flame beyond us, seed and source of Dark and Day
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| Maker whom we beg to be our mother father comrade mate
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| Till our few atoms blow to dust or form again in wiser lives
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| Or find your face and hear our name in your calm voice the end of night if dark
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| may end
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| Wellspring gold of dark and day, be here, be now |