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Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #1081014
A poem about life and the eternal circle which it is.
We tread upon paths shrouded in darkness,
following blindly the echoes of our hearts.
Constantly moving, souls bound in unrest,
vague longings of a peace never found.
Perverted reality brought to bear
upon the world as a whole.
For just a spark of truth, of light,
we would sell our precious souls.
The shadows converge, tracing our steps,
seeking to cause us to falter.
Deeper in darkness, among its caress,
we travel the soft velvet night.
Sanity is lost among twisted dreams,
glimpsed by the conscious mind.
The end is perceived, though never quite seen,
for death is unknown to itself.
So as we continue, pressing endlessly on,
the cycle is unbroken, unchanged.
Though the choices we make may cause us to veer,
the path yet remains the same.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1081014-The-Path