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Created on: March 11, 2009
This life has become an illusion,
as tormented dreams wrestle with Jacob's descendants,
lilies fall silent when the winds of blurry darkness hit them;
rain is no longer productive, for it overflows and causes roads
from Ancient Roman Times begin to crumble;
former lovers, who claim to be strangers, have given up on love;
for their desire to be with one another is no longer poetic;
but muted, so no one else can find the frequency to their epic battle;
be still,
for earthquakes cry out in pain because no one heeds their warnings,
yet, this life yields mysteries before a blind man's eyes,
unfortunately, we are ignoring him because our time is limited to folly,
where even the nectar's bark is always sweet;
and vinegar is never added except for pleasure;
however, spoiled grapes are used to dilute the good taste of wine.
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Poetry: This life
Why does it have to hurt so much?
It tries to take away your every crutch.
Even when you know you're right,
You still seem
As seasons change from spring to Fall
And all succumbs to winter's call
This life we live it changes too
From season to
“The most important things in life”
To love and share, to honor and care
To seek and find, to put
Another day has come my way as I crawl out of bed.
To face the world, society and work for little bread.
All these days
I am never quite sure where this life is leading me,
whether I am in control.
Maybe there is such a thing as fate,
or maybe
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