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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Sunday, November 22, 2015

(153)

As they peer into the Deep within,
Stretch their mind,
Creeping closer to breaching
The surface of the soul,
They fly further from the domain of man.

And they come back,

Dirty and dreamy,
Despised
For disturbing humanity in its stupor
As our collective Conscious suffers waves
That reach new shores.
We hate them for giving us a peek
Into new unknowns.

They’re scouts of our colony
Who step into the wilderness of the Spirit,
Rangers that break boundaries and set new limits.
They scare us
For they do what is unthinkable to us,
They hold still
They listen
They do not reason
Or stop at tradition
They stare down the looming horizon
And set out into the beyond
Towards seeming oblivion
And breathe life
While we grumble and follow.

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