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Prelude
Prelude
That moment whence the world conceives That overture of faith Is proof enough, her grace abounds She's night turned into day
Seldom glimpsed, misunderstood She straddles separate worlds To most she is but God's great whim And rarely speaks of pearls
Her rule is that of subtlety Each tear a sacrifice Beneath her raiments gray she hides That men may seek her price
It matters not which way I face She's with me all the same There's no horizon she won't touch - No valley, hill, nor plain.