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The Unsown The graves are young these days, dug in hardened earth that all too quick resigns its belly-stones, tempted by too sweet a barter-trade. For little spent far more is gained, where weeds were grown, far greater things are there now sown. Yet, this garden will yield no blooms, nor fill the air with fragrant scent, rather keep cocoon-like held the seeds that there now lie, and slow decay their dreams, undreamt. 25 ...

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