Single Strain

I believe in a place, quite close to here,
Where the unreal lifts its head,
And the scent of the Lady appears,
Across the meadows and plains,
Of possibilities unknown and strange,
As the sight of life reveals itself clearly,
For the path of a man unabashed of fear,
Without the sweet stains of morality,
And the bitter complaints of mortality,
When the truth finds itself by a single strain,
To see what has always been near.

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