Poetry-32

Jason

There is no end. No beginning. No birth. No death.. But do not be fooled, for when the shot rings out, all the feet will shuffle.. Do not be fooled, when the bell tolls, you will return and all you know, all you are.. Will remain. Shameful, that the remainders continue to elude us and that what remains and what we leave behind are not one of the same.. How can we repeat, what we truly, do not understand? They say “We do understand,” but that surety of understanding alone, should tell us we do not.

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