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Possibilities are endless in life,

if you keep yourself open to the flow
of air and ideas and tactful strife,
of water, the depths where memories go:
I remember you smiling, working fast
with a pen in hand and such wondrous eyes,
jotting down sights that, in a lifetime past,
we must have known straight-up, without disguise:
That's the power of wonder, it's magic:
that each novel vision shines like the past,
wrapped in the sheen of a lustrous distance
that elevates it to dream, for instance:
It is wonder when you pull back your ears
to cross the street, and the picture's so clear!
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