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Sigh.
Looking, I am numb.
Vitality but foreign to my being.
Introspective, desolate landscape.
On occasion a monsoon comes
With it wind, rain, and life.
And storm, flood, and death.
Such is nature, violent in its balance.
Everything on borrowed time
Before returning to the earth
Rendering all insignificant
In the face of the cosmos.
Our shout into the void.
Our claim to existence.
Ah, love.
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breathe.