That blind man by the bridge, who is as gray As a forgotten country`s boundary stone, Might be the thing most constant and alone Around which stars are turning far away: A centerpoint in isolate repose, While all about him postures, strays, and flows. Perhaps he shows a pathway to the just, Beside which other paths look snarled and curled, Or keeps an entrance to the underworld, Invisible in superficial dust.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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