seems like it shouldnt be so hard,
what else is there that matters?
we keep looking the wrong way,
keep turning our backs on the truth.
forgetting where we came from,
with no idea where we’re going!
life runs like sand through our fingers.
we race madly towards the flame.
are we moths, would be gods,
or just small children,
who’ve lost our mother?
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wherein lies the edge of beauty?
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