The river that divides us stretches far as the eye can see,
Nor is there end, nor crossing place. Save for a wooden stare
Supported by the tide of previous tears,
That ebbs and flows and heaves against it's creaking boards.

People may try to dismantle the steps we took.
Now that the boards are washed away, we do not even care
Enough to stop them when they want their wood.
We do not need s...

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