The Modest Alley: From Oracle to Debacle
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As the alpha booms, with twilight of hue; waking up the null , with delight of view; progress of a phase that packed the psyche in you with parcel pith and pad that adds the dye in you. Few rising up in plots, tweaking up the lump, striving on with grit and waiting for a cause. Few making up a clue and forging up in queue; building up in snow, and warming up in heat. Few treading with the tides few tracking on with gloat few swanking on with selfdom and few hiding off the foul. few scandal up the thoughts few sowing up wild oats Few glowing with the forte and few losing up that pack Thereby goes his life in debacle and oracle, waiting for that ebb with awe as long we do. Still knowing with the hour unknowing with the phase As all clouds have a golden line burning till we veil ...