Now here

Looking outward

The dark disk circles above

The master discs appear lost

In status

Having the correct status

The correct status

To spin into place

It is the dream of lepers

For they were sworn at

Those bitter children

Climbing the cold cold hill

Withering in their hands

Touching air they arrive

Holding their chest

For a moment

To hear politeness

Decent people

Who offer something real

Perhaps it is possible.

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