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I do see, Daniel, and I have never worn any political labels. But surface storms roil even the deepest ocean.

Thank you for this salvation prophecy of a poem offering, my mystical brother. You know I’d rather disappear than be upsetting people. Thank you for so wonderfully centering me back to not be feeling victim to the games anyone plays.

A world be known, beloved people; a world be known… Leon

Daniel Swearingen

Wonderful, that tip of your mind, that part the rebel blind, thinking you can change the world, watching leftist dance in swirls. Do you not know, that change is a constant see, what you deem change for some, will be your frivolity. For indeed time is change, prepare yourself to see a new way, for all your cultural wars, will end up at your door. That hooded monk, the one with thesis that he wrote when he was drunk. Those points of liberation, come down to libation, he and all those since, those before with weapons spent, they change the world they say, oh nothing little rebel changes anyway. Blame the one you hate, you’re not full of love when you forsake, that one with which you disagree, they’re not so stupid, you’re the one who can’t see. This world has a day, war, creation all the same its foundation…

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