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The Dot

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There is a dot upon my page
and then upon the dot,
a tiny spins in a rage
that not a soul can seem to spot
the array of life it holds
even in its large abodes.

For, though this world is very small,
it bears a great burden.
The fate of the world shall befall
on the choice to turn or sin.
But perhaps behind the choice
is a controlling, all-knowing voice.



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