I was a wild child, I was a crazy child. Remains child, still within, Of a vaguely sort. Through the gaze beheld, By The One, from without. I am a rich man, I am a poor man. Where upon treasure within, The Rock and water collide, Gold? Nay beheld, By The One, from without. Will I be called then, Holy man? Will I be called wise, or Saint man? Released be the fault, Where the child seeks within. To the gaze yet beheld, By The Father, not without.
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