We lay down at the end of the turn
Of our Earth away from the sun,
To face the dark, the day is done...
And we, no longer blinded by
The light, and the multitude acts
Of living, can sense in the starlit sky
A different, quieter, set of facts,
Which urge us to question why
We fought, or strained to earn,
In the fleeting light, before the turn...
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