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   POETRY > The Immortal

Now is the strong man’s grip to what is

But blind, we appease ourselves

On contentment that does not hold.

Happy is the deluded

Thoughts lift him from the mud

And he sees those we cannot.

Cracks on the surface

Reality sneaks upon us from behind

As sure as the hiss of the fork-tongued.

Denial is not just a river in Egypt

Nor a fountain of youth by which

We implore the Fates, “Leave the thread be!”

There is no escape

For the will cannot withstand the call

Let go your grip and to freedom –

The mirage must fade

The curtain must draw

The show must end.

For such is the way to the stars

And such is the path to immortality

To die…is to live!

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