break forth and take hold the object of your unending longing;
it from self withhold the brutal truth of an aching soul!
how our exploding stars of raging hope do ribbon out in streams of folding
backs and strangled tones, in hues of such diminished light, so damned, broken, and thus untold!
with a surge of wind no discouragement made as to the length and width of their liberal spread,
but this dying stride of a blessed ride does suffer that from which it's thrown!
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