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A Tale to Bring Happiness

to Your Sleep

The ground is black and sky is red

and crows are low around my head

with clothes of twine and bed of stone

I am prepared to die alone

Before the mountains fall upon me

a speck of white becomes a tree

and blooms and grows quick into ten

and then over one hundred again

A forest now where ash was

and flowers too and bees that buzz

and sting my heart without the pain

so I can lie down in the rain

And wash me of the blaring past

that I once thought was gravely vast

and let me take this for you to keep

a tale to bring happiness to your sleep

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