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Reason
Who knows when we grow to be of the age of reason and light that shines upon midsummer's knight on a midday noon.
Who says that life will be as clear as mud and as beautiful as the mind.
Who thinks that the world is flat, slavery is right and that when we reach that never there age of reason we will not choose to turn and hide from where we were and go to the land of no one yet everywhere at once.
Who knows what I even mean by this poem.
It's either the genius of a forever-mind, or the ramblings of a never-mind.
You decide.
