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The air has rules
gravity controls,
with varying directions
as a person grows

Paths in the garden
climb for so long,
as fences suggest
where boundaries belong

The grains of life
spread among fields,
providing shelter
for fruit and its yields

Those guiding roots
to points we arrive
can mostly corrode
yet somehow survive

Memories feed vines
with a call,
catching drops
from canopies tall

Maturing ventures
induce a far sky,
but distance is bridged
the moment you try

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