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By jamesaguiar - Posted on 21 December 2019

In the end, we are all just men
Beleaguered by life and troubled time
Wishing to be more but accepting our ken
Reaching, relentless, for the sublime
Which eludes, escapes avoids our grasp
Leaving us still bemoaning and loathing
Our lustful lives presumptuous and brash
Living lives of eternal foreboding
Thrust from joy like Icarus’ crash
Yet fear, such as this, is vain and fleeting
Killing the spirit of what we might be
Making retreat from our true essence
And so deprived of what we might see
We cancel our time of life in the present.
If we must all ultimately die
The keenest of sin is failure to try.

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