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Progression
Given a point on the circumference Of life: this point is death, an inference Of rest where no rest is possible, where Atomic rush is ceaseless in still air. Sun in the due course of change Becomes moon, and possibilities range Beyond the impossible. Death Is but a swimmer's holding of the breath. Life has no end. Man, with greatest and least, Progresses to some outlandish god or beast, In what unknown condition of sensory wealth or dearth, To rule what polished planet unseen to earth.