He arose one morning,
and saw the moon recede.
Thanked sufficiently, the lunar pearl
had once again became a bead.
He plucked the marbles,
hitherto flotsam, adrift,
frazzled in the ether,
and threaded them back as his gift.
Soon, he began to plunder
all his wealth back
from the hooded robins
that had once pronounced him a hack.
With a kindly altruist,
he exchanged verbs of warmth.
Disallowing the bypass of his filters,
he would know he saved himself from all harms.
His currency sniffed the market
and deemed it safe to emerge;
Its deep slumber
had given it a new surge.
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