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It's Sunday, time for a sermon

It's Sunday, time for a sermon. I'll do real work later. Ha.
Been swimming upstream for so long,
I don't know where the current stops,
Nor when the river becomes an eddy,
Where the others ask, what's next?
Maybe I could float for a while, just sing a song,
But I fear where that would lead me,
Especially when the sound becomes a siren,
Before Calypso says, just rest.
I think I'm bound for other places,
I'll make a map, I'll see where you can go:
Look, there's the island where my soul was emptied,
Where he composed an infinite jest.

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