The grim reports from the far reaches
Of the human mind stop short
The lost armies of thinking
The last weary survivors
Set up camp there
On the cliffs above the river
Dreaming of bridges and boats
To float across this impasse
To the beautiful world that must
Be there on the other side of pitch-
Black darkness and cold
Where they light their fires
And tell their ancient stories
Of those who traveled there
And brought back word of gold
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