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Hello there my friends, all whose names I don’t know,
I am he from which wonder is born.
I am thoughts of an hour in which memories grow.
I’m the rose which has lost its last thorn.
I make pencils move quick, spelling words in a way
that brings deep breaths and smiles to bear,
and as sorrow creeps in or on fantasy’s day,
as you arrive you will find I am there.
I’m that man you had met or the women who left
on that day you just can’t leave behind,
yet you’re thankful for me for I am not bereft
of the sympathy you wanted to find.
Though I haven’t a name, I’ve a purpose instead,
to hold hands with surreal contemplation.
You’d like to know me?...I’m why your soul is not dead.
Most know me
as simply
Inspiration.
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