as i walk through the pages of the revolutionary past,

i ponder on the nature of man and his world

i think of his desire to be freedom

i think of the violence created in his worldly mind,

i think of his rationality to this creation.

as i read through the darkness of night

losing sense of time and the the world outside the walls of my room

i am being drawn into a trance where the words i read are soaked in meaning.

i am numb like the dead to the pricks of life.

i am not myself

i have allowed myself to be something else..


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