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This world of ours contains such vivid grace,
With the rays of day, shining, making blind,
Those with their heads not forward, but behind.
Those who see not beauty with open face,
But rather scorn, and our earth, they disgrace.
These souls, who have not seen the stars defined,
Instead, view but worthless light, unrefined.
I often think of them, with minds in haze,
And wonder of those with their heads on straight.
If there exists man, who in day looks forth,
For whom the sun reveals a path and fate,
Because in sight, is their shadow on Earth.
And so, in night, the stars which lie in wait,
Reveal to these star-chasers, the world's worth.