A Fruitless End Ever

Ugh. Stupid writer's block. And Coward(ism). Stupid people living on the same planet. Same stupidity, same sorrow. New, old. All the same on this stupid planet of stupidity. Please help, when we need help ourselves. Please love when hate is in the air. Stupidity is on the move. Spreading...spreading. Hate is a virus, deadly in its own way. Bitterness. Acrid. Spreading on a wave of violence across the planet and seas. Bitter in flavor, yet sweet in revenge, life is good for the oppressor, not so well for the oppressed.

Revenge. Sweet as victory, long in sorrow. Oppressed turn oppressor, when the black times come to end. Black fades to white as life dims harshly as night comes to morning and the combination of stupidity and solemn business comes to mean nothing. Nothing. Black distance from the sun to Earth. Life remains. Here. Alone.

And the sun shines brightly upon the wicked in their own time, making the shining less tolerable with every inch, every second, until the spirit comes out to reek havoc upon the good and wise. The brave fight, the tongues wag, but none is well as sun turns to sky and sky turns to clay and we all start again.

And the silly solemn stupidity of the simple is enough to drive one mad in the white times when black fades to white and the clouds float upon the earth. When end comes to end in the times of the ends of the earth. Life remains upon life and the stupid simplicity of the simple drives one mad.

And the children sing their mindless songs of antiquity and ingenuity:
'The past is gone; Don't mourn it-
An new beginning has come.
Don't mourn, don't forget,
The past is an infinite threat.
Back it will come,
What's done is done-
Do something you won't forget.'

And the birds sing of a new day's dawn, while life ends with a flash of sun.





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