The truth is so painfully obvious

But we don’t want to believe the truth

We just live in the moment and moments

But where were the moments before the first?

And where will they go after the last?

It’s a movie we won’t ever see complete

A tree and flower we didn’t see born

A once living carcass we didn’t see let go

What happened before, after, and in between?

It is as an individual we all know

But as a collection of only things

Things that came to be from inanimation

Only few within would painfully know

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