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Long is the way,

And hard

That portends a shift

From grey to green.

From green to gold.

That road slowly

Buried

Under a snow of decaying ash;

The tape underfoot

Indistinguishable

From its sodden cradle.

There is no crunch beneath my feet

And no fire in my lungs—

There is no sun here

In this sallow miasma—

Only the dying embers

Of a search once begun,

A journey once completed:

A quest unaccomplished.

Long is the way,

And hard

The road.