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Towards the Light
Then it is lifted up by ardent
longing
To radiant spheres, that it can-
not approach
Until it learns that Death means
— Liberty.
I noticed then a spirit standing
by,
With wistful gaze intently bent
on me.
How well I knew the form. . . .
It was my mother !
I flew to greet her with a cry of
joy,
But she drew back avoiding my
embrace.
[ 54]
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