Epiphanies of the day
are changeable like chalk drawings.
What’s genius in the moment
with euphoria heating on the burner,
will be cooling in the compost heap tomorrow.
The constant is the trickery
that kills off our humility,
and renders us royalty.
So quickly we forget.
As we crash our brains in depression
against the rocks of earth; our reference.
Divinity is found in the panic,
that keeps us from the knife.
Dogma then takes over and we rise with will again.
The constant is in repetition.
Déjà vu; no recognition.
Guns with lack of ammunition.
So quickly we forget.
Tomorrow I will try again
to find the greatness of the glutton,
and I'll author another book
that rivals those of highest knowledge,
but it will decompose soon after, proving nothing grand.
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