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The

Ritual

Is ever present

Ever lasting in the mind

Ever smiling like a moon’s curled crescent.

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Un-

Hallowed ground

Cause once true belief

In a weary wanderer

Stolen by evening shadow thief.

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Death

A fixture

Rivalled by birth’s goal

One in forty trillion

Odds favour few swimmers in a shoal.

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Life’s

Scriptura

Stem from the seedling

Of a tree which reaches up

And grasps all six senses of feeling.

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