Amidst the clouds, the stars sparkle,
as if hiding a secret.

Afront the stars the clouds stay,
as if guarding the secret.

It is this mystery of the skies
that keeps me up at night,

And the dazzle of it all
that keeps me looking for the light.
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The wind is an emotion of the land and the ocean.
It is a record of every hour, every minute spent in motion.

The wind is a story of the world and its history.
A memoir of moments, whether war or prosperity.

Of every human sold and of every soaring eagle,
the wind is the narrative, the only real chronicle.

The wind is a memory, the song of every bird caged or free.
The wind is a story of the world and its history.

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