The poet who reads philosophy often thinks about truth and freedom living together,
                   values and love,
                                            different people in poetics. A world. A dim light in this vast landscape of the cosmos. Birthing little in the grand scheme of things.
Knowledge is boundless and freedom is limitless. I would rather see the matrix punch on with the paradox.
                   Without demons, I would have no need for Angels.
                   If had my love in forever, my muse would die in whimpers.
                   If it wasn’t for another, there would be no philosophy.
Truth with belief, freedom is limited.
To live in freedom is to have one’s own truth constantly changing. A neurotic romantic who knows how to love will always be without. To the contrast people holding love will never be good enough to their lover, for those who believe other, are in for a disappointing death.
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