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they draw with us,
the sun peeks over white clouds,
casting the ruin above us in bright light,
on our level,
seasoned with white hair,
his body bends and straightens behind our drawing circle,
laboring over the land,
the children draw of magical places,
sailboats, underwater palaces,
while he performs daily routine,
one day their routine,
the ruin remaining artifact of an infinitely long workers history,
watching over the scene like a light house over the sea,
a magical place of dynamic cycle,
yellow twine cycles symmetrically.
