Somewhere in all days;
witnessed as is always,
in the mornings blue skies
as in the nights goodbyes.

It stops the singing,
matches the hatching.
In its crawling time,
it bettered the wine.

With nothing to give,
it gives and yet deceive.
Wizen the ripened old;
consumed and still sold.

Young the years grew
and gathered all anew.
Stealth gets its way
as age steals all away.

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