In my dreams, do I walk the valley,
Feet on the grass that parts my way,
Sky that shines ever so brightly,
On a hill sits a house of clay,
There always, waits someone surely,
Yet before the door, does my legs fail me,
Recalling that I am not yet done,
Opening my eyes, as I spoke softly,
Till that day comes,
I shall await that promise.
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