A hidden answer, a simple code.
A harmony, a perfect ode.
A means to peak at what’s ahead.
A cause for hope among the dread.
A lifeless number, some would say.
And too a track, a path, a way.
The straightest lines that we can see.
Where larger cycles claim to be.
Though heading toward a worse of times.
It is a walk on bended line.
A line among a few and many,
That shows of twists and turns a plenty.
A line that rounds and returns,
As if forgetting what it’s learned.
A line that’s always back to fore,
Where there’s always something more,
May our hurt be all worthwhile.
May we look ahead and smile.
May we move along in faith,
In a couple from the eighth.
In the rhyme within the season.
In our maker and its reasons.
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