The Park Post And the third thing discovered was the lie, and I asked why? Being is only seen as beautiful, yet within is condemning iniquity. Wanton life, vainly moving along according to desires; lacking fidelity, grasping fairy tale – it is pointless. His passage is with grace, He cannot help it, He is the only reality. An otiose existence is the lie in comparison. Why does it prosper? Beauty and grace in its hands merely brings tears with wonder not devotion. It is hated. How is it dispelled? Simply the hardest, the reality is behind darkness for purposes scarcely understood. At times a glimpse, and the poise is perfect, how He travels. And it passes; the ripple is swallowed in the lie. Not in the hands of youth, the pitifully ignorant. It extends now; the elder holds the lie to a dying breath. If neither, then who? The rational? No, too broad, they lack the stride. He has to traff...
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