Most cannot say from a fledgling age
To what they will aspire
All forms of art from harp to page
Could spark that ceaseless fire
The greatest growth that most will know
Is when their mind is open
Then an endless distance they will go
wounded, but unbroken
A hunger, nay, voraciousness
That in itself devours
A requisite audaciousness
Can help control its power
Driven nearly mad with it
Untethered at the seams
There comes a time to dash, not sit
In this pursuit of dreams
The Mewriginal 
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