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By jamesaguiar - Posted on 09 February 2010

 I reach a glorious new point in life
Nothing lives but dull pain.
All memories blend into an ache.
Life's meaning is, perhaps, just to have survived.
I inhabit a microcosm with the sense
only of having endured.
This feat, of not having relinquished the field,
Lying dying like Roland:
Impotent and lost
To everyone but myself
Yet, I know
a subtle irony:
Life's only truth:
to love and be loved.
Would I change a note in the recitative of my life
For the aria that never was
I am that I am:
Part of the mystical godhead
of all that is,
There is nothing to mend
nothing to fix
Not a single trick
That in the flick
of an eye
would belie
the simplicity
the reality
that nothing is everything,
And everything is for nothing.

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