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Each grain of sand that slumbers on the beach
is but a paltry remnant, grated thin,
yet holds a trace of majesty within
from granite claws that stretched in skyward reach.
Each heart that rides on restless, pulsing waves
is flecked with faint striations, spanning far
beyond its own awareness; throbs a scar
from wounds now decomposed in ancient graves.
We bask on stairs of glory we align,
trace languid plans of heights we will achieve;
but past reflections filter through our weave,
embed their subtle threads in each design.
We seek control, to navigate our course;
but can't remove the river from its source.
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