The distant between the first engagements of youth and today’s indifference is measured not by movement but in scars. The wounds that have healed, and the ones that yet haven’t, are just memories of the earth and daily reminders of our return.
But acquiescence is not failure.
It is a realization, an acceptance, of our ultimate escape. Our wounds carry with them an eternal promise made, now solemnly kept.
As we edge ever closer to a reality grounded in fullness and merit and truth, our scars reveal more than they can silently hide.
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