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If death is imminent, then what is the point of life? Why do we go about our lives, creating war and other atrocities for what, the greater good? The only cure is immortality, but even that is a curse, watching everyone you know pass away. Most people live life blissfully unaware of their impending doom. Only some realize the true gravity of this situation, but they are few. And after death, what lies beyond? What lies beyond?
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We are a brief footnote in history. A few lucky people are chosen by fate to be the instrument of change, some good, some bad. Others live simple, normal lives. We have the opportunity to change lives, fix our mistakes. Accept the challenge and make the world a better place.
The Vacation House
He built this house himself, the gravel
lying outside says. He brings dogs as well, the wooden
floor says. And he loves wine, says the cabinet under
the fridge, in need of a good dusting. But the house is not quite
finished, says the wall and doors, still
in need of painting
His sister comes here too, says the refrigerator
in need of ice and the light which needs to be
changed. And she too loves dogs, says the
dark and empty basement. The place must have cost a lot,
says the large TV and radio sitting unused. And
the locale is beautiful as well, says the lake shimmering a pretty blue.
Wonder why they leave, asks the formless statue in
the yard. The gravel says he built this place;
And what about the dogs? Their hair lies on the floor like
fallen snow—hair upstairs, hair downstairs, hair everywhere.
When will they come back, they all ask?

Awesome poem!
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I am very impressed!
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