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THE UNTITLED by TODDIUS GILBREATHIUS
Those who stretch beyond the bounds of mediocrity pray for the peace of success. Sheltered within a structured space an oppressive orb of distention reveals a longing for something more. A purpose with meaning and a way through it all.
Foreign worlds surround us all within the microcosms of which we live and breathe. To fear a revealing of our own repressed truth is to persuade others who we are not. A mask is pleasant place to hide but a dreadful place dwell.
The begotten is forgotten as I stare at portraits of the past. Ghosts of the future come and gone. Dreams lived, forgotten, and or discarded. A mere glimpse of a fraction of time.. The wind blows and where once there were many there are none. An open field at one time a city. A civilization buried with the passing of time. I am left with a ponderance of existentialism.. But for what reason?..
The world is awash with the hem and haw of ill repute longing for the clarity of morality… A civilization with no rules is full of fools…….
Post Word……
In a few days I will be writing about distant lands, colorful people, and Pubs. To pour myself into the over analyzation of life’s complexities would be certain monkey business.
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