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I have found that which I seek,
Rather, need, which I have not sought.
That which I have yearned,
Yet have never broken silence on behalf.
That which proves gawkingly precocious,
But still, nevertheless, so close to me.
So tauntingly close do our eyes meet,
And so teasingly far from reach.
I recognize its walk, its carry.
Familiar of that which devours me,
Burdened with that which makes me.
And still, fearless of that which haunts me.
We share a dialect, it and I.
One of countless words and slangs,
Of surrendering expressions and melancholy,
However, void of a single character.
So here I am, presently,
Staring up at that bright shining star.
And as I avert to my right,
I refuse to turn away.
Because I have found you.