They
A gentle kiss,
Scarcely a caress
But so very familiar
So caringly, lovingly similar
To his long lost child
Who died.
So, knowing the shaded forms were his
That it was his fate
To nurture this lost essence
Only visible in fleeting shadows of death
He fled
Fearful for sanity, and madness.
But, is not the conquest of the impossible,
The recreation of the unlivable
The only viable means of conquering
The human condition?
Based on Rudyard Kipling's short story "They" (1904).
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