If all our dreams
Rested upon the whims
Of a shooting star,
Would we not be strutting about,
Twirling our destinies
And playing tunes
That sound the sweetest
To our untaught ears?
And yet
If all our dreams
Rested upon the whims
Of a shooting star,
Would we ever know
How sweet is the gentle fragrance
Of the dawn,
That leaves behind a stormy night ?
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