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A sunbeam paints the window pane, The storm's dark whisper, washed by rain. The clouds have fled, a vibrant blue, But echoes linger, sharp and true. Should I step out, embrace the light, Or cling to shadows, hold them tight? A warmth descends, a tempting grace, Yet fear still lingers in this place. For heat, I know, can breed unrest, A gamble played, a soul distressed. Some joys may bloom, a welcome prize, But darkness, too, before my eyes. This life, a dance, unpredictable and bold, I yearn for riches, a future to unfold. Prosperity's hand, a gentle guide, To walk beside me, side by side. And people fade, like morning dew, I pray for grace, a vision true. To see the good, the honest heart, And play in life a worthy part. For I have sun, a golden gleam, But tempests rise, a fevered dream. Though winter's chill resides in me, For ninety-nine percent, I'm free. But that small spark, a burning fire, The one percent, my soul's desire, That's why I write, that's ...