It is through mud that we must go
to understand the way ahead,
for no one comes to true self-knowledge
and does not see his own self dead.
What joy there is to sleep in darkness
And wake unto a chirping bird!
But should we not, that call not heard,
we'll sleep our sleep among the worms.
Which way we travel, wisely choosing,
matters not in the end,
for all is lost before beginning
and not for aught is there a charm,
unless there be a night worth sharing
And keeps this kiss ourselves from harm.
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