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Time is a river to be rode,
it's not in code,
holding you tight,
nor your abode.

And now that could be,
what one does see,
from that very point,
when one is free.

But yet to dispel,
and to compel,
to strive endless,
thinking to impel.

And leaving now,
waves off the bow,
parting before spirit,
onwards we plow.

Ciao.