In a white horse running
Up into snowy hills and
Slowly disappearing
But the gods don’t experiment
They perfect so there
Can be no failure
Even apart from them
Transcendence awaits that horse
And we will succeed ourselves
One enlightenment at a time
Though there will be acts of suffering
Apparently mostly prearranged
But not one failure
The very idea of failure
Is as perverse as it is persuasive
But it still isn’t failure
Like the flight to intelligence
As if the gods hung out there
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