It has never been hid,
Just close your eyes and turn your head until,
You see it through eyelids,
You'll never reach it, but the path it lights,
'sperfect in ev'ry way,
Though unless you keep your eye on the flame,
There are long stretches of pain and dismay,
It's the glow that paints the world with purpose,
Not god, more myster'ous,
Fueled by faith and tested by your death,
Without it, you are lost,
With it as well,
There is no map to see,
Just the hand of whatever gave you birth,
You must blindly follow religiously.
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