When they have lost themselves,
Caught up in journeys led by their bodies,
Their souls left on the shelf,
No time to think about the world they're in,
As if time has an end,
Like what you do to keep your flesh alive,
Is existences be all and all end,
Thinking only about what must be done,
In service of someone,
Who only wants it done to serve themselves,
Again, ad naseam?
It has e'er been,
For many in this life,
With moments of deep self-realization,
That we're the creators of our own strife.
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