Brilliant flashing truth is here: In the village of fog, clarity is rarity
Partly flying through the lazy nothing of contentment,
Partly blazing in motionless crystals of logic,
It is always here after a fashion, crashing into the empty nation.
Brilliant flashing truth is here: Its absence tells its entire tale of terror
Traded for used food and approximate appetites,
Swaddled in desires without objects,
A tourniquet of treacherous teachings from traitors.
If we must become worse to conquer, victory is worthless.
The glory we can only achieve by submitting to defeat
At the hands of the bottom of ourselves
Is no glory at all, and
Brilliant flashing truth
Will devour it whole without so much as a hiccup.
See clearly, see clarity, see rarity, see everything in a crystal of nothing.
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