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Edgar Whitman Wilde
Poems
Jul 2012
What is self?
What purchase to justify the elusive possession of human identity
In emulation of that which confronts by baffling order of habituation
That tangled interaction in breathless strangeness of the ordinary existence
Yet there is only daylight and that which is condemned to die by lifeβs end
Those insoluble difficulties that as such are confusions that resolve themselves
In a strangeness that is both touching and grotesque and ask a simple question
What is the self? What is identity? What is that which haunts throughout a life?
Only that of a masque which hides in mediocrity and grief another mask
Which allows an awakening only to continue to live the saddest of our dreams
Written by
Edgar Whitman Wilde
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