Exhaustive Romanticism
As Romanticism is emanated from the despair
That the truth is inscrutable, and is overwhelmed
By the physical desire that merely insists on
One’s prolongation, all over the hibernating land
Are strewn the exhausted bodily debris.
The road seems to be neither good nor bad
And so intoxicated are most of the walks
To the effect that the twinkling eyes
See the world hopelessly, not fearing of
Their unique steps to be continued...
History does not repeat itself,
But what is absorbed by human eyes is
Nothing less than the stagnant Time.
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