It is the beauty of reflective thought
That we are amazed at all we are taught
From before the first breath, or eyes opened bright
We are who we are before mothers first sight
In transforming images through times open gate
Till in our last and wonderful sigh,assured of our fate
It is in the simple that make the complex rare
The peddle of a flower, or a curious stare
Are we not meant to explore all that is before
To go through the gates, unlocking the door
To what end are we affixed in all that is made
Why do we hesitate toward what are we afraid
How can there be folly in the pursuit of the true
Why to the rush away,so the finders are few
In only one conclusion can an answer be found
An aversion to freedom that keeps our mind bound
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