Everything feels opaque, empty, invisible,
barely enough to stop us dissolving.
Have I not walked this way,
the cycle untraceable,
watched the world as it was forming?

Not sure I'm here at all.
In beauty of curving symmetries,
only death to a normality.
Even the stars fall.
The root to our own beliefs
lies in our chaotic fate to evolve.

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Kirjaudu