The shadow of mist will disappear,
birds will fly on a chirping sound;
life will nurture in every corner,
some will rise — now, or later,
with a roosting sound, or one of me.
Wryly drawing a million shades in the sky,
with so many phases of life,
it reaches every new direction it finds —
little things to hold, and to say.
And from a far distance,
I stare at your potency,
far beyond any reach to conquer:
the dawn of a day.
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