Is it the long-postponed perception
That something profound is missing
From our lives something we keep
Trying to repress or hide in full sight
Like how long others can know us
Before we have any awareness of ourselves
But maybe it's more a certain sadness
About how our thoughts and feelings
Can only carry us so far until we hit
A wall we sense is only an illusion
This world of beautiful appearances
Innumerable spirits have left behind
But how long must that call
Hang suspended in mid-air
Before we humans hear it
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