Gloomy Days
The days are overcast. The ghostly clouds, That haunt the day, appear by dismal light, Casting their shadows out upon the world, And look to be dead, wrapped in mantles grey, With faces phantom-like, that seize the mind, As if some life, some present light, remains, And have come, now, to tell of some demise, And of what fallen state is now endured, Once knowing joy, and that of brightest skies, To part with that of worth, there at death's door.
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Spurs
Our current perspective, in this very moment, is altered by everything we've ever experienced up til now, what happened years ago and what happened moments ago, and the accompanying thoughts. We are forever changing.
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