It ends the way it all began. Two trees again. One land. And
rivers flow. It ends when finally the tale is told. Then, in a city made of
light, no tears are shed, no pain, no mourning sorrow shall remain. It ends,
and in that place we’ll meet again.
Then, though a quarter shall be lost, yet all are found. And though third should fail, still all succeed. And though the whole is wrapped up, rolled into a final scroll, yet all again becomes our world of men. And he, who loved, who loves, will be with us, eternally.
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