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May 17, 2004 - A poem about Humanity

The Multitude Fray.

O’ angry insects.
I hear the crunching of wood
as your battle destroys my house.
You have descended on me through dark skies,
shared with enemies blood-feuded,
intent on the ways of the hive.
Why do you battle so?
Your blueprint is of no difference,
scratched out by a wretched swarm,
no variegation in design.
Struggling adversaries of the wing,
fury is not our syllabus,
and your ignorance in myriad,
is not mine.


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