Some how some way, we want to believe we have so much of it.
As if the infinite sign and the clock are hand in hand.
Except, the truth lies w/ in others graves we walk, drive, and talk past.
We all take it for granted,
We regret not grasping it,
When it is as ripe as can be,
Perfect as we see,
We bring forth our unintelligent human brains,
And look right through it,
Why is that?
What is the explanation?
Where are the answers?
Who is the one who brought this thought process into our generation?
When will I meet this creator?
-If there is someone, something, or just even a word that has not been discovered to describe you, please.. Stop the misery.
#IWillPray for the ones in need, including me.
-R-boz Ali
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