[From: "The Last Journal of Gwyllyn"]
Floating out into the ocean sky,
the golden blue, the open eye
beholding all things on the earth,
ascribing to each but little worth.
A great and glittering teardrop there,
suspended in darkness, shining fair,
with the joys and griefs of everyone
falling and falling around the sun.
With blending hues and brittle lights,
with shifting clouds upon the heights,
the furious clamorings of the day
serenely burn, then fade away.
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