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Friday, March 8, 2013

Pragmatophobia

Each step on this stairwell another brick falls 
As I rise higher I become unsure of the space between me and the ground.
Why is uncertainly always about not knowing? 
There's a key to the grave but never a door to open 
The crypt hasn't been visited since... 
When I rise to witness the crepuscular light
I may had reason to doubt what it all meant 
But never would erase it from my mind...

We will find the balance 
The balance that this stairwell can lead to and from 
With closed eyes in a certain amaurotic way 
I believe the bricks will reform 
Deform another century 
While the art will be preserved.  

... 

Transience of life 
A hymn to a prayer, 
To silence and to sleep.
Another mystical moment felt
Within the walls of REM 

To altercate what is real 
To go beyond 

The final step... 

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