Those who have witnessed the birth of a child
and heard a sound of the baby’s first cry
know that nobody ever was born evil or mean.
Those who have sighed with the dying last breath
of beloved or bared with age to know more
dead than living know that the loss takes its toll.
Whoever cries or laughs with the dead
Seeks for, that, ever departed innocence.
All others are everyone else, somewhere on a way;
some running, some taking wrong turns.
Many hope never to return,
but one day they all come back
And the world changes before their eyes
in a flash of a dullest and distant moment.
We all look back.
Some stay and fail to find themselves. They go stale
growing the thick skin of arrogance.
Some break and stare empty
while sleeping on the cushion of lost times.
Some laugh, cry, and bare the ever growing burden.
They know how much they don’t know
And how it’s hard to know the unknown knower
That knows that there is no such a mirror
That ever reflects anything back.
Embrace the flow;
The full perigee moon retracts losing itself, then waxing out.
The new moon runs back, waxing in to its whole expression.

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