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May 2015
She stands there like a goddess in the myst
Truth is she's the goddess and the myst
Every single plot twist
Every vengeful fist

She is the all encompassing mother of creation
The source of all of your frustration
The train station, police man, "late-ing"
She's the one who tells you

Stop waiting.

And come find me.

I am everywhere but will you ever see all of me?
The Man gazes contently at Her everlasting beauty
He wonders if, truly, he will find every piece
But alas, it matters not - she's him, he's her

Infinity is nothing
Without a conscious observer.
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