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Old poetry

It ends

The end of an era,
The dawn of eternity.
What the stars cannot fathom
is the brightness with which I shine,
now.
This new unchartered land does not mock or patronize, it lays open and inviting.
It is by my own faith that this valley stretches out into a rich valley of lush, green life.
It is by my sheer will that I have deduced the direction in which I must head.
I crave no more, the mundaneness of uniformality.
An individual of note, I now know who it is I want to be.
Now, I am sure.
I want to be the many me''s.
The silent me, who shys away from attention.
The boisterous me, who craves attention, needs excitement.
The vengeful me, who can never be tamed.
I am three, I am me, I am in short , an anomaly.
So it ends, a new era ascends to take the place of the epoch that had consumed me.
It ends now.

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