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for each seed growing in a strong tree,
half a million other seeds will bite the dust,
except, to taste the dust they must believe  in the power of usefulness,

- unable to think that they will never germinate
they let themselves be carried away by exotic dreams:
dreaming of being nibbled by sparrows, washed by rain,
smelled, chewed by squirrels, beaten by hot-cold winds,
swaying in foamy waves,
touched by a second chance,
than
rotten in the mud under a tree,  be it a strong tree, who cares,
in other words, about a vigorous tree when you are a survival  arch,
canopy
arched up to the white canvases.
excess rusted broken  shackles
free from ancient gyves
tongues in dungeons no more
a present prisoner of forefather's  measures

ears drum no more
notes fall through the cracks
remodeling skips yet another age
future slavers of our descendants

emancipated you stand
a guests to a freeman's  world
you are no more
return us to the future
free from the present past.

                                   In mirrored minds we remain.
Once through we passed
How young we were
At old the tunnel swallowed us
Weep not for us

Once again we shall pass
How young we are
At old the tunnel will swallow us
As birth did  before
Weep not for us

Endlessly life cycles
Butterfly from Caterpillar  
Caterpillar  from womb
Weep not for us

Thundering claps and steps
Roaring screams of joy
once again welcomes us
To a world anew
Rejoice for us
Victory is but a loss
We live our lives in a hunt
Hoping to catch the Lightning Bird
In our success of catching it, what is it,
That which we gain except the loss of adventure

Victory is but a suffering
We live our lives as servants of corpses
Hoping to live before we die
We search for people and moments
That make us feel alive, but when we find them
We suffer the loss of knowing we were alive all along

Victory is but an illusion

When dogs catch the car
What do they do?
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