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The Reasoning Stone MAG
We walk, spineless and thoughtless
through summer,
only hopeful for the fall.
Where intoxicating colors dance runic-ally
Upon a leaf's end,
And young evergreens deride the old oak,
exposing its nakedness in debt of lies,
While each truth descends solemnly
toward the earth;
and the night rules by the falling sun,
calling not its allies for dependence,
but for an eternal rest.
We assume what is not,
and reject what is to become,
optimists we are not,
but pessimists there is none.
Guilty slaves of hope,
Boring the truth
in which not true-ness complies.
Multiple shades of blacks,
Only alive at night,
but in summer we thrive,
Why do we rejoice in Summer?
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"No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did, he would cease to be an artist."<br /> - Oscar Wilde