by on November 29, 2010 :: 0 comments

I drizzle.
I am sensitive though jovial.
I explore this enthusiasm,
though I foresee the line between acme and abyss.
I yearn to amble into it, through it.
I flutter and envision the humanity.

This drizzle enters further into my body,
It electrifies me, and I am myself.
This drizzle allows me to ignore mockery
And send it far off.
Oh, now I am liberated.

I acquaint my vagueness.
My insightful cuts of string,
Then I bound up to pinnacle.
My nerves are free,
Then I appreciate my supremacy.

The drizzle further congeals me,
Oh, how serene! Such harmony!
My life is mine, not for others to live,
I covet only this.
There is no lump, no dominion.

I become myself not through others.
I am further stimulated and I smile.
I stretch out.
As I trace and boost this inner realm.

This is congruity for social progress.
It storms away the subjugation.
The drizzle creates the new hegemony,
Then my soul is justified.

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