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Sep 12
The lone man ventures the path to the unknown,
and to the unknown he went alone…
From there, he trekked the shadowed Valley of Death,
where bleakness was raw within, and
it swarms lost souls of their own mischiefs and miseries…

There, nothingness spawned.
Time does not exist, but nothing is absolute.
Plains and jagged paths, all but nothing to last.
He stood there in the crossroad,
where the absolute was over the horizon of
impossibilities and possibilities…
No Sages to come and see, no Forseer to oversee.
Nothing.
Without heed nor light, he strode towards the dead of the night.
The Lone Man walks along the crooked road…
a poem about existential crisis
Vincent Asejo
Written by
Vincent Asejo  22/Other/Philippines
(22/Other/Philippines)   
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   Vincent Asejo
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