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Continuous Crusade

Updated on May 17, 2015

Vast diversity like the wind.

The sails stand sturdy, but bounds awry

Irony. Sympathetic irony.

How fast both sails and the wind alter, but neither are on the same page.

What a chaotic mess. Clockwork counter production.

A book written backwards.

Dessert eaten first.

A man without a job; no sense made.


Why must there always be unsolved competition?

Both must settle in compromise, before the ship can sail, and the wind can flow.

Daring threats, both offended, and hurt from the day before.

Stiff necked, no heads are turned.

Just bridges burned.


He who is mighty may hold the key.

Though they are unsure of this key’s existence.

Temptation is a child, played as a fool.

Foolish temptation leads to cessation.

Sail waits in solitude, where has the wind gone?


Evaporation, sunken into the deepest grime of the cosmos.

Sails are left at a stand still, waiting to be taken.

So many places sails can go, but not without unity.

So many places wind can blow, but not without unity.

Wind need sails, and sails need wind.

When standing alone, both are empty.

When synchronizing in harmony, both conquer.

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