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Another one of those days where the rambling inanities turn poetic:
Death of this form which life clings
Remembrance of instances eons long gone
Where beings beckoned the essence of life on earth
There is still this longing that remains now and then
Like waves at the shore of the sea of awareness
In between worlds
Where I am waiting for myself
Myriads of voices
Muted consciousness
Constant noise of silence
Might and pain reign the day
Willing sheep march towards the slaughter
Reassured when playing the game while they are played by the game
Emboldens all to waste away
Only then the choices appear
When there is no opportunity to change anything
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