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01/21/00

Silent green hills stretch past
And the cool wind streams
Through my hair
As I run towards the dark sea

Atop a mountain, I pause,
And look at the misty, shrouded
Valley below.
All is quiet in the new morning

Night falls,
The dark, greasy smear of the slow river
Looms before me,
Close and soft in its presence.
The skies clean, the summer wind fragrant,
I glance upon the stars

I am free.