A desert empty, hard, and mute some implied and maligning agent mere dust, soft clay, of eroding tides unsettling account, no balance to come in the pall of mistakes past
who are you to ignore the obvious effects of your actions? and ask the world to bend to your ignorance of other ends more exists without than is known within or spoken invisible but no less real, though forgotten our wills have mass
an epidemic of inattention content with meaningless negligence on a curved path, tethered and constrained wrought between collisions and propelled to escape
but man himself is a force of nature which counters all others and conquers so as to undo itself in its wake, risk values all reward so-called providence designs all consequence
the game plays itself
so it goes, and so it went
so it goes, and so it will, at the end
so it goes, and so it will, so it went, at the end, as it always would
the measure of man isn’t that which he hazards no hope in abandoning to shaping molding chance this alien land holds scars of man’s conversion does it manifest our victory, our destiny, or our barbarity?
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 4:08 AM UTC
A desert empty, hard, and mute some implied and maligning agent mere dust, soft clay, of eroding tides unsettling account, no balance to come in the pall of mistakes past
who are you to ignore the obvious effects of your actions? and ask the world to bend to your ignorance of other ends more exists without than is known within or spoken invisible but no less real, though forgotten our wills have mass
an epidemic of inattention content with meaningless negligence on a curved path, tethered and constrained wrought between collisions and propelled to escape
but man himself is a force of nature which counters all others and conquers so as to undo itself in its wake, risk values all reward so-called providence designs all consequence
the game plays itself
so it goes, and so it went
so it goes, and so it will, at the end
so it goes, and so it will, so it went, at the end, as it always would
the measure of man isn’t that which he hazards no hope in abandoning to shaping molding chance this alien land holds scars of man’s conversion does it manifest our victory, our destiny, or our barbarity?