The palisades

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Black / Poetry

And only through death do some experience joy,
A freedom that was to them but alien -before-
But is now within their grasp.

They stand above the planes of morality and human cognition,
Like apostles sent from an ethereal world;
To shine light upon the darkest of human fears-
Of his own death;
Of the cessation of his conscience-
The conscience created for, and filled into-
His shell; His person; His Life.

But even a man of general prudence can tell,
That life goes on, from here to the next.
Why then must he worry-
This man of conscious breeding;
With long accolades to adorn his name,
Yet none to keep him free of pain.

Why then must he be a skeptic to the longevity of the soul;
This man of form and stature,
Rational, yet naïve by nature.
Alone in this great space;
Yet unwilling to let it phase.
Why is he afraid, to let go of himself,
To worry about the lonesome, and fear the palisades.

The Author

27. Living large. You control how you make another feel, don't take that for granted. Peace, Love, and Positivity.

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