Illusion separates chosen proofs
Of life as we know it.
Loss is a point blank mirage,
And losing forever is only to arrive at a distance.
To be alone is to be deserted.
Loneliness is a state of mind.
What presence, a state of emergency
Without help relief.
And when lives are distinct from each other
Together we distinguish ourselves.
Separate from ourselves is all that is forgotten;
Together we are the memory of existence.
But our amnesia forgets this is a dream
And suffers from the pain of loss.
To say yes to life is to conspire with....
The consciousnesses of infinity.
Infinity includes loneliness
Infinity includes non-infinity
Infinity is only one reality
In the memory of existence.
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Comments about this poem (ect. by jonathan Juarez )
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Edgar Allan Poe
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Henry David Thoreau
(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862)
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