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Of Consciousness, her awful Mate
The Soul cannot be rid
As easy the secreting her
Behind the Eyes of God
The deepest hid is sighted first
And scant to Him the Crowd
What triple Lenses burn upon
The Escapade from God
Of Consciousness, her awful Mate
The Soul cannot be rid
As easy the secreting her
Behind the Eyes of God
The deepest hid is sighted first
And scant to Him the Crowd
What triple Lenses burn upon
The Escapade from God
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