Proof Professed

If I am to fear nothing,

Must I then, love nothing?

I fear sleep but hold no,

Affection for it, I dislike,

The loss of time immensely,

The control forced upon,

My physicality, perhaps it,

Is this prison of flesh, the

Very body I reside in that

I fear, for its weakness and,

Lack of reliability, the

Linear confinement of meat.

If I am to fear nothing,

Must I then prove nothing?

The page would be pointless,

Records made redundant,

Literature left as litter, but,

The thinker, regardless of,

Whichever ‘ology’ they,

Profess to love or learn,

Would counter, never able to

Abate debate, as, whether

Points need to be proven,

Or not, thoughts will be thought,

And I fear, sleep will find me,

Before the words are able to.

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2 thoughts on “Proof Professed

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