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Impelled by selfishness and

without benefit of reason,

running on tender feelings alone,

sight means nothing but a window

to the fruits of desire…

to fill the covetous cavity

of want… of need…

and nothing quenches the aches

of longing more… evermore.

Insatiable is this feeling…

welling from within,

the nights longer than one

can bear when exposed

and all alone, tears to dry

on stained cheeks… mascara

runs and an empty heart

beats on bravely, all the

while thinking it will improve

but laughter forlorn dies quickly.

Spending our time obsessed with

ourselves, the revolving door

to churn our lives from green

to red and yellow to gold…

thoughts to believe or disbelieve

and end up with unbelief to lead a

life to pleasure with abandon will fill

a grave… the Earth to swallow

all the hopes and dreams of living…

nothing more to look forward

to so live it to the fullest.

If it is thought the spirit is

eternal… to live beyond the

fleshly constraints, the merest

limitations to eat and grow…

likened unto a caterpillar…

this is where we place our hopes

or grow to seed and plant,

the chrysalis, and the life to

behold in eternity shall be to

spread our wings of wonder…

or to wonder forever why we won’t.