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We are two lost souls withered away by the swords that have bruised us deeply, immensely
But we have yet to stand.
And we will stand, fueled by the stars above in the limitless sky and the earth tumbling beneath our feet, the shivering mountains, and the sea, beaten up and abused since their birth, beaten up by our dreamscapes, bleeding into our blood veins and evolving into doves,
The doves’ escapade from our trembling lips the birth of replenished souls, melting into the thunder of the beating hooves and into the lost gaze of the does grazing in the meadows,; lost in the lionhearted howl of the shaking trees and the golden streak within the intrepid lone lion.
I know your timid heart feels like a blade of grass under the storm of the hooves of a thundering herd, but bear with me.
They are lost minded herds, chasing in circles for the most basic impulses and dying without a glimpse at the beautiful sun. their thoughts are homeless and nomadic, lost under their lowered heads searching for the greenest meadow. Lost gazing towards the next crestwave of the tumbling hills. The hills which seem never-ending to them but in reality are just a few scars upon the map of the earth. the herds all have one soul- the soul of the suited man, the automata sitting in the subway, sleeping sensation.
They are the soul of the workers, hollering over the chaos of falling glass, slaving in the heat waves to build a house, which they shall never afford to live in.
But dear blade of grass, away with your fear, with your sorrow!
Today you have come from the warmth of the earth and seen the glory of the pounding hooves. You have bathed in the golden light from above and felt the soft curtain of rain waltzing upon you, murmuring to your every desire. To be born, an observer. To realize the scope of the world, oh glory! Hallelujah.
To realize the ignorance of natural life, hallelujah.
You have been born and lived and died without a true sense of goal except that you have graced the surface of the earth and observed with all your heart (we are blades of grass, you know, our lives too short to waste racing
With the blind herds chasing away with greedy instinct
Retreat, then, to the spirit of the blade of grass and absorb as much of the world as you can
(for there are many existing worlds after this one)