Exercising their primordial rights
In the vast government of the stars
The great clock-keepers and tricksters
With their little hands appear
To shift the gears of Mars in fall
And trim the moon's bright sail
Tacking into the wind and rain
But always in sight of land
Ferrying off the dead with singing
Bringing back the barely living
While way out there in the cosmos
That only a mind can reach
A little door is swinging
Where it passes out of time
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