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:: Knowledge by Wanda C. Mitchell ::

All there is of genius
Is something yet unkind.
To loosen all the dragons
That haunt the human mind.

To canvass all the souls
Living still or dead.
To mount an expedition
In search of what's been said.

Conclusions drawn from another time
When surely all must go.
To part the might waters
And push away the snow.

If knowledge lacks come morning
And shadows linger still.
The only hope that yet remains
Are empty minds to fill.

 
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