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Thoughts On The Walk Home Hastily Scribbled Into a Notebook, With an Interlude of Cathartic Poetry.

There are no boundaries in this universe, only a constant state of being. Each of our paths unknown; the act of knowing would tear our reality apart. The world thrives on our ignorance, the wave form changes once it’s caught, and so do you once the realisation is made that one can observe one’s self. The daily charade becomes no more than flair and dance to upkeep the illusion of togetherness within. Retracing old patterns as the great unknown beckons yet repels the curious observer, seeking within for an answer to a question that doesn’t exist.

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The Dublin lady sits atop her ledge in glamour and warmth; while her garden of cold steel and glass perishes before her leisurely gaze. We are being robbed of what we were promised in broad daylight, sharp tongued and cold-hearted false idols stand as puppets in front of the confused masses. Walls are built to divide men. Divide and conquer in order to weaken our spirit and cause us to create our own bloodshed. We live in a land that evicts its own citizens. Where do we have to go if we cannot seek shelter? Roam the streets like the animals they see us as. Take off your mask, reveal your humanity, Break free of the tyranny they have tricked you into. Your screaming chariot awaits, your escort into the inferno. *******

Cold air is interrupted by happy greetings and bitter elixirs shared by the familiar. Words exchanged subtly reveal intricacies of the fabric of reality, serendipity dances with synchronicity before the astounded eyes of one desperately looking for truth in a projected environment.The past awaits acceptance, the future awaits creation.

Days remain dark, but the light slowly creeps in; with the rising sun hearts lift and rise, under the counsel of the moon shall we return to our centre.


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