An inadequate prerequisite precipitates hate. An adequate preparation is the precipices of a failed attempt. As the item fell beneath our nose we knew not of it's form. Like our location. Our Fate. Where were we? How did we arrive? When have we met? Questions held for another day, another time.
Another reality in shambles once more. Will we return to what we have come to know since our conception? Fear that the latter never would crept quietly and assuredly in our pineal. Casket or casjet? The growing empire ceased.
Thanks for reading my original POEM, written in complete freethought form. Do not forget to follow and upvote if you liked it!
