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Live! So many lives, so many words Such beauteous mountains, rills, and birds are oft ignored by human eye Few people live until they die. So many words are thrown around True poetry scarce can be found So many writings would enthral Yet few lives fain affirm us all There are two ways to birth good art And which way is the better part? To play or write, display your gift? Or otherwise: a life well lived? But when - I hope in many years - I face the greatest of all fears I wish no vain words on my stone May this be true: "He lived until he died" |
Additional Notes:
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