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It's not that I don't want to study,
It's not that I'm a orn genius,
It's not that I'm proud or haugty,
It's not as it is, not as it looks.
It's what you call an illusion,
It's the transparency you can't see.
It's the cause of all the confusion,
It's what gives honey to the bee.
It's not there in any book,
It's not stored in any slide.
It's not shared by voice alone,
It's never lost, nonetheless.
It flows with the wind,
It swims in the waters,
It's in every tree, plant and flowerbed,
It's knowlegde, It's true, pure and blessed.