For what object are we to believe in?
Are we to strive in what for such temperance?
In blindness, we still alway persevere:
Toward a common goal man has yet to trust,
Help, though unwanted, much needed by all.
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Some of My More Random Thoughts
PoetryWith this, I wanted to take a simple idea, some little word or phrase perhaps, and turn that thought into something with beauty and meaning. It doesn't always rhyme but sometimes, it doesn't have to. It's the words themselves that carry the weight.
