Means to an End

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What stands today simply cannot stay-

And there is no way to delay, to hold at bay,

It will all sway, grey and flay,

Forests filled with life, are also forests of decay.

The oak that falls crushes what is underneath,

In a massive faltering apogee,

It opens up the canopy,

And gloriously atrophies.

We run the same race at different rates,

And have different faces, yet the same fate.

“The end is a conclusion,”

That seems to be a delusion,

The end is an illusion,

Or an allusion,

There is some confusion.

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