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On The Rising Old

On the 16th September (2021), one day to a month ago,
I wrote this as I thought of it during my night time tea:

Peace is the pure absence
Life should be opposite to it
Because life is what happen when
Perfection doesn’t happen

But peace it’s perfect

And about war, I’m not even
Mentioning it
It’s not about it
It shouldn’t ever be

I happened to accidentally find this draft now and to me,
Although it was less than a month ago, it seemed such an old memory

But this perception might just be filtered by current lack of peace