There is nothing that is not known to the heart. It lives without bounds and without consideration. There is nothing that is known to the mind. It lives with conviction and with damnation. The fences of the body contain the remains of the hope we had for the past. The fences of the body contain the shattered remains of the people's plans for honesty. The fences of the body are no more. We shamble to be born, forgetting first to die to longing and betrayal. We find those that were forgotten and ask them for the song. They do not hear. They do not listen. They respond with venom for the question implied and the challenge unmade. We walk on, drawn by a dark sun. The wind rises and whips up the dust of compassion. We wipe it from our eyes, lamenting the pain, and continue on unaware. There is no finish line, and the starting gun awaits our departure. We thirst for wisdom and find instead the light that passes understanding. We flip the switch, the light turns on, the light goes out, and we open our eyes once more.
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