what good is this life, a purposeless strife,
how to know my self, when its all yourself,
the doer and the deed, one and the same creed,
the mechanics of work, all lost in this cirque,
fighting for my individuality, its only your manifest divinity,
they say I grow and learn, how could it be a discern,
when the soul is all I am, the body is a sham
the start meets the end, the journey only to pretend,
that I grew old and wise, it was my eternal youth and devise
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