the nihilist’s prayer

We are but mirrors,
false reflections of the truth,
sentenced to forever imitate,
what nev’r will be,
Ugly misshapen receptacles of the ideal,
And now we have cracked,
Shattered into hopeless shards,
How then shall we recapture that old brilliance,
the brilliance of the true sun,
Must we wait,
Till Midas arrives,
To paint us a golden portrait,
Of the forgotten disc,
Before the wroughtness,
Takes away our shiny surface
Forever leaving us lost,
to the brilliance.

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be sure to purge (thoughts,ideas,complaints) if at all you feel the nudge

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