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Beginnings and endings always take place at the same time-- the temporal equivalent of seeing the glass as half empty or half full.
She thinks it is pointless to wait and the change is never going to come, that it is pointless to waste time writing our revolution poems, our change poems, our dream poems. It isn't true. I've seen revolution happen before my eyes: I've seen the engines of a heart switch gears as the light creeps … Continue reading the point
The question now is what do we do with these pieces of ourselves that will always belong to each other as the rest of our selves drifts apart?