Every answer has a problem, though finding it may be the clue.
Every heart at times is broken, just to heal and so renew.
Every teardrop falls on laughter, softening it so it can fly.
Every wrong has right behind it, if we only feel and try.
Every ode is me just trying to figure out this world of mine.
Every word I write in wonder is one more tiny little sign.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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