The past is not a ghost that died away,The future is not waiting to be born,The midnight hour, the breaking of the day,Are fixed together in a cosmic morn.Like scenes upon a strip of celluloid,All moments stand eternal and secure,A crystalline design within the void,Where everything that happened shall endure.Your childhood laughter and your latest sigh,Are etched forever in the fabric deep,We do not vanish when we bleed and die,For time is ours to permanently keep.The present is a lantern moving fast,Across a landscape built to always last.
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