Hunger, light, and tenderness,
The forest holds happiness.
The forest holds death in it.
We are all the same in this.
We have our ruin; we have
Our moments of bliss.
If the former’s forever
And the latter’s transient,
What of it? Only others
Suffer our final ruin,
As we have suffered
The ruins of those we loved.
The moments of bliss are ours,
And some moments last whole hours.
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