Just before the first light of day
Enter the autumn wood, my friend.
Into the rising sun your way
Neatly unfolds until a bend
All swept with leaves upon the track.
Decide now your path where you stand-
No one ahead, no turning back.
How long before you go astray?
Ever chasing shadows yonder
Until the sun sets in the end.
Rest well, my friend, and remember-
I too once left the ochre track.
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