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the valley

26 August 2010

When you’re down in the valley, sorrows run deep
Like the clear mountain pools, the cold-water streams,
Where anything and everything seems
Far too meaningful to be enamored of mere means;
She sleeps an untold sleep in the heart of the valley,
The mistress of sorrow and delight
Raising a man from the lowest lows to the highest heights,
But down here in the valley, near where she sleeps,
Dusty and moldy are time’s contents
And rusty and grimy are her golden tents–
The flags are all faded, the parades all ended,
Now the end has come as last:
Where the sorrows run deep, the valley’s extended,
Overcoming the present with the power of the past.

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