I'm scanning the horizon for the words
The little words I know must be there
Hanging by threads unsure they
Really want to leap into the world
Like souls into waiting bodies
Or like that kind philosopher who
Having experienced everything
Could trustingly plunge
Into the volcano down through
Every layer to the heart of the earth
Where the words are kept
Of course he was not even a cinder
Nothing was left of him to give
But the volcano was never the same again
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