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894

Of Consciousness, her awful Mate
The Soul cannot be rid—
As easy the secreting her
Behind the Eyes of God.

The deepest hid is sighted first
And scant to Him the Crowd—
What triple Lenses burn upon
The Escapade from God—

Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 5 Sep 2008 12:36 PM | Viewed: 4996 times

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