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By jamesaguiar - Posted on 19 December 2009

Sitting , reflecting with nothing to do, Imagination attempts to construe Realities obscure and remote Which little denote An existence of rote. Is there a chance Dear serendipity, happenstance We might see a shimmering glimpse Which hints A subtle truth Lost in youth Penetrating the clouds of now Evanescently hinting at how One might be Solitary, divine and free?


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