The hills have a silent will,
These winds will not let me be,
Walls I see but would they fall,
How can the blind find a way.
A will is a way , they say,
But these paths do not lead,
Nor do hedges, wills heed;
Oft the heart finds a way.
With winds may minds sway,
Smiles glisten the eyes grey,
Some tales are better lost,
Some lives better this way.
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