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Aloneness
Man is afraid of aloneness.
In probability I walk faintly aloof
Writing every cause in the briskness
Panting wonders to the side; aloud,
And then I rest.
Fear, terror, and pity;
Doubtfulness
The mystical foreign contempt;
The fear of going insane.
The fear of knowing your name.
Perceived to be selfsamouto, or too strange.
Mined language wherever we can find it
To understand something, someone,
Is to be completely unafraid, and selfsame.
As I call out the lines in the cold night
I stopped there waiting for you
Approaching remembrance from where I once knew.
Missing me one place, and to search another,
The falling footfalls that came
To the wind; I know what you’re saying.
It comes to me in blistering silence.
Be careful in seeking the knowledge of life
For it comes with no understanding,
No-more, and no-less,
The pattern must be discovered.
But without such ponder in seeking,
There is no visible soul.
There were many expressions
Inside while closing the box
As the sepulcher of uncertainly
Is placed upon the wave.
Who told the stories first
And in what tongue;
We cannot surly say.
As I call out the last lines into the cold night
I stop somewhere waiting for you
In probability I walk faintly aloof
Writing every cause in the briskness
Panting wonders to the side; aloud,
And then I rest.
Fear, terror, and pity;
Doubtfulness
The mystical foreign contempt;
The fear of going insane.
The fear of knowing your name.
Perceived to be selfsamouto, or too strange.
Mined language wherever we can find it
To understand something, someone,
Is to be completely unafraid, and selfsame.
As I call out the lines in the cold night
I stopped there waiting for you
Approaching remembrance from where I once knew.
Missing me one place, and to search another,
The falling footfalls that came
To the wind; I know what you’re saying.
It comes to me in blistering silence.
Be careful in seeking the knowledge of life
For it comes with no understanding,
No-more, and no-less,
The pattern must be discovered.
But without such ponder in seeking,
There is no visible soul.
There were many expressions
Inside while closing the box
As the sepulcher of uncertainly
Is placed upon the wave.
Who told the stories first
And in what tongue;
We cannot surly say.
As I call out the last lines into the cold night
I stop somewhere waiting for you
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