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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2213142
Rated: E · Poetry · Spiritual · #2213142
the repetition of man in the cycle of life
Soldiers of sorrow, bring back to us our sight.
W the joy of yarrow, comes the morning light.
Increasing our senses, decreasing our fright.
Returning to class in the darkness of night.
Developing a thickening of skin
prevents the witticism that comes from within.
For the reflection of us all,
comes from man's frequency fall.
The becoming of judgmental fools,
turning us into useful tools.
The abandonment of universal rule,
hurled us further away from truth.
Carrying on the destiny of man,
the fulfillment of a greater plan.
Soldiers of sorrow, our final stand
cataclysm of morrow, our reprimand.
So, to ourselves we bring forth the light.
Returning to class in the darkness of night.
In our learning we lose this vessel of skin.
In our yearning to be what we have always been.
Original thought, the wonderment of all.
Originally fought before mans endearing fall.
Without war there would be no end.
Without end where would we begin?
Oh the contemplation, the history of men.
The repetition to begin over & over again.
Soldiers of sorrow we have become.
Universal law, all is one.
In the next octave we can not plumb.
Universal law, all is one.





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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2213142