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Weaknesses are so powerful,
They show the flaws of strength
Man in all his wisdom and evolution
Fails to comprehend simple nature

We have drawn from nature
Suckled upon its left breast
Toyed with the right one
We have seen but half its light


Dogs bark, Alsatian ones, Bull ones, Wolfhound ones , Greyhound ones and all sorts, black ones, grey ones, yellow ones, white ones, they all have at least one thing in common, they bark. Everyone sees them and calls them a dog, they love the variety, they may have preference but are mostly cared for equally.

Trees stand, some short, some tall, some fat, some thin, they sometimes dance to the rhythm of the wind, some have leaves, some don't , some shed, some don't , some have fruits , some don't , they are all trees, nobody despises a tree because of it's bark, different tree barks could make useful herbs and other useful materials. people love different trees, they even make good shades in scorching summer.

In the human sphere, we have all sorts, tall, short, fat , thin and in beautiful colors- with all other variegated features but what we see is what we do not have in common: culture, religion, color... difference. Where there is no difference, we fabricate it, we fabricate inferiority and superiority, we create deplorable history, lies, we create vain interests and fight unjustly to fulfill them.
Nature prides in uniting varieties into a coherent beauty.
You can mimic the arc
If you are not colourful
You're not the rainbow
Si c'est pas le vrai, c'est que le faux
Untamed W I n D
    Br-ee-zing with no coherence
Disrupts my stance
Old flames rekindle
A spark from a stray memory
Suddenly strikes consciousness
for blue eyes...
I can't stop thinking about you still
Yet, i  know missing you is not the right thing to do
Not that i can help it, each time a thousand thoughts of you flock my consenting mind
But, my well nurtured hurt has become the antidote,
It sedates the uprising of memorable moments we once shared.

Now, each time I think of our happy moments,
Sadness thereby follows, and then, pain...
The dream you had was actually me writing this for you...
The cloud is dark, It's a gloomy day
Perhaps this is the sign, the bleak sign i mourned for to absorb the breeding thought of killing my sprouting seed

Altering my future, an abuse of a forced choice
guided by my reason, responsive to the enslaving circumstances
I am enslaved to.

Or do i take this chance and swirl with the whirlpool in the troubled dark sea? Cast myself in it like Jonah?

My path is already marked, what i will do, what should i do? Silence my conscience and obey reason or follow passion and obey my energies? Or perhaps marry both?

After all, William Blake quotes: "Without Contraries is no Progression"

I will see in the end what will be, Que Sera Sera, and i will be sorry for the road not taken , diverged in this black wood.
Caught up in the shades of reality
Who would buzz over the fly*
               when it becomes carcass?
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