It was just as the great father had said.
Those things that burn in the sun cast out to the monkey in the jungle.
And rise they shall, in the fires of life.
So pure it seems and then washed away into the great abyss.
Who then shall assemble these ashes, and form the seed that will stir once again.
And give the enchantment of new wondrous waves of fury.
The hills shall feel the air on its breast and lift once again the beauty that it so generously offers.

Until that time.
With heavens and the earth combined.
Form the hawk that will fly to new waters,
somewhere out there.

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