There is

Always hope.

But he doesn’t see

The contradictions in his eyes.

There has to be a way to break this grim paradox

and release the minds of those enslaved to the world we have created for enslavement.

Nature is screaming desperation floods upon the concrete slabs that have stolen the surface of her skin for unconsented pleasured waste.

Destruction in its masculine frame walks her surface and forgets to hide its crooked smile while it plants the seeds for the poisoned apple trees.

I look to him as though he has some magic key and he wants me to unlock the door

Because he carries the truth like a wheeled wooden board –

the paradox in his two hands

And nature told me

to listen

to his




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