Grace, this feeling, is a state to the derelict being.
As we may look for familiar things on unfamiliar grounds,
So is Grace - unexpected throng that in silence sounds -
And this uniqueness renders Grace without similar thing.
There is Grace on the soaked sod, and on prosy skies.
And it might lingers on clicking fences at the winds,
Then departs from World, which thereon doubt brings.
Grace, feeling: at the dark of the eye - where it lies.
--- Ulian
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