I see perennial cotton fields striving below,
I see old people trying to fit in,
I see youngfolk indulging further into their illusions,
With Banal merry
I see the Joyous, unhinged souls
Bouncing up the Alley
With nothing folly,
Or heinous on their minds.

I see, a few lost souls,
Confused, inept to fit in
To divulge into Mankind’s newfound illusion
To those lost,
You are found,
Found in love, in merry, in joyous tears,
In Nature, in music, in poetry
To those confused,
Stay confused
For you are living,
Not existing.


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