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Is the disorder
of the world, our
world, the only one
we know, incurable?
Can our world be reborn,
remolded, refurbished?
Do we build castles in
the sand, only to have
them destroyed by entropy?
Can we only fortify or create
enclaves? Is the world ever
bothersome? The passionate
person should not even ask
these questions. Most do not.
All that is present, is fulfilled,
is within the world (where else?):
thus the world, our world, must be
taken with utter, unalterable seriousness.
of the world, our
world, the only one
we know, incurable?
Can our world be reborn,
remolded, refurbished?
Do we build castles in
the sand, only to have
them destroyed by entropy?
Can we only fortify or create
enclaves? Is the world ever
bothersome? The passionate
person should not even ask
these questions. Most do not.
All that is present, is fulfilled,
is within the world (where else?):
thus the world, our world, must be
taken with utter, unalterable seriousness.
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