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Some time ago I heard the story about a man who could not see because of the darkness
that himself and the voices existed in. Regardless
and irrespective of the fact that finding things without light
nearly always is a hopeless plight,
driven by tales of colossal prophesies determined
in spirit, determined
not wavering he found his
giant. This is
Only known to a few
Now, myself the man and you.
The man stepped upon his giants’ shoulder
He pushed up the ceiling as it where a heavy boulder
Every inch of
Strength moved that what was above
He peered beyond the stone wall.
On knowing the truth with light, he now could see it all
Under his feet there was no giant
Laying piled high still and silent
Dead bodies of those who came before
Every one of them they’d seen what he saw.
Realising this he stood there and went
Silent
On went the passage of time, the ceiling slipped back into place as his life let go
For only now we understand there are no
GIANTS
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