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The silver weaver, close and grand,
Pulls the tide within the land.
Not just the sea feels the fierce tug,
But silent sorrows, holding snug.
The heart, a hidden, lunar shore,
Gleams with all it held before.
Old desires rise, too bright to keep,
While secrets surface from the deep.
A moment's grace, a dazzling plea,
To simply feel and simply be.
For in that light, so vast and near,
We find the answers, clear and dear
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