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    Through the forest; through the trees;
    through an opening, to a cornfield;
    there, standing tall in the distance, my talisman is revealed.
    The instant I see it I immediately race towards it at full-speed-
    ever-present and all-around me there is an energy,
    an anticipation, a focus, and a need.
    The windmill is all that I see; the windmill is all that I know;
    not even the waist-high corn of this field
    can keep me from where I want to go.
    I am like a man possessed: running, leaping,
    forging a path where before there was none-
    the closer I get, the faster I run;
    the higher it towers, the more hypnotized by it I become.
    The Windmill, the tower: a majestic memento of ingenuity,
    and symbiosis.
    A windmill, an artefact: a constant, akin to that of an oasis.
    As I stand at the windmills base
    looking up at it’s intricate sails,
    the windmill’s wheel begins to spin,
    as if it were being turned by the gust of a gale.
    The clouds above me clear; the windmill’s sails are now still;
    the blue sky above me looks so inviting;
    I feel as if I am in the presence of an ethereal will.
    I stand transfixed; energized, emotional,
    protective of what stands before me;
    and after what seems like a lifetime of looking, I finally see…
    myself, my younger self,
    standing at the base of the windmill looking at me from below-
    as if I were now the windmill,
    and my younger self had come to say hello.

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