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21 " Small roads written in sleep in the foothillshow long ago and I believed you were lostas I saw the bronze deepening in the lightand the shy moss turning to itself holding its own brightness above the badger’s pathwhile a single crow sailed west without a soundand yet we trust without giving it a thought that we will always see it as we see it onceand that what we know is onlya moment of what is ours and willalways be ours we believe it asthe moment flows away out of reachand lengthening shadows merge in the valleyand one window kindles there like a first star "
― W.S. Merwin , The Moon Before Morning