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Many centuries and ages have passed this way,
Stretching behind us: vague, endless, and gray.
Unlimited years have passed from our view;
Is time waxing old, or is time always new?
How can we measure or section apart
Time never ending, or time without start?
Are we the ones moving while time stands still,
Or do we flow with the time against our will?
Is time ever changing, or always the same?
Does it ever return from whence that it came?
Yesterday's gone, and tomorrow will be;
But still it is always the present to me.
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