Poetry, Writing

Pretensions

The way of the mind is the only way

		The soul but a concept
		So narrow in the human view
		In totality, existing only for the individual
		Based on the prospects open to that single mind

In the recesses of the mind
	This soul throbs and pulsates
Not existing independently
	But rather as the intrinsic lifeblood
		Of the mind
	As the essence of existence
	To live is to breathe
To create and wonder is to exist
To make beauty and answer all of the questions of existence
Is to truly be alive

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