It's the bun in abundant
And the tort in distortion
The quest in the question
It's what's hidden in the den
And what was in what's wasted
It's the sea in the seasons
The glint in the eye of the armor
It's the am and the our in amour
What they were in another life
How many years did they get
To hold their secrets safe
To record their mysteries
Words whose white hair
Of clouds is fading like
Grandfathers and grandmothers
The faith of moths to the flame
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