48 miles left to go
towering heights, withering lows
Somewhere from the depths down deep,
sleeping soundly from counting sheep
How many stars lie and wait
for the time to go and win their fate
For with the white is the black
many a mind on arrested tracks
An arising moon and its setting sight
Breathless sounds of guilded light
How many more does it see
Cease to count and commit to be
The night came slow but as a friend
with countless more unbound within
And when dear tock strikes its bounty-toll
and the merry cheer their grandest goal
still applaud and carry forth
passing nothing but their passing torch
uncertainty lies in
My
reach, its constant pull
Our
waves and sheets
and when
One
knows
She
ought to sleep, close
His
eyes and take
Your
leap...
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