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Poem

In the twilight of thought, where shadows of logic dance,
Lies a meadow of dreams, untamed by the chains of reason.
The stars, like whispers of forgotten realms, beckon us—
Beyond the rigid paths of structured minds,
Into the vast expanse where imagination reigns,
Unfettered by the cold grasp of rationality.
Here, the moon weaves tales of ancient sorrows,
Of souls adrift in the ocean of time,
Seeking the shores of unspoken truths,
Where every wave is a metaphor,
And every breeze, a sigh of forgotten memories.
The habit of logical thinking, they say, is a cage,
A gilded prison that stifles the wild heart of dreams,
Where man, in his quest for truth,
Builds walls of equations and formulas,
Fearing the chaos beyond their sterile embrace.
Yet, in the heart of this chaos lies a melody,
A symphony of colors and sensations,
Where the ultimate questions of existence,
Are not answered but felt,
In the silent communion of stars and souls.
As we drift further from the shores of logic,
The currents of error and absurdity grow stronger,
But in their embrace, there is a strange comfort,
A reminder that in the grand tapestry of the cosmos,
Our errors are but threads of a larger design,
Woven by the hands of the infinite.
Let us then, surrender to this flow,
Embrace the beauty of our flawed perceptions,
And in the dance of shadows and light,
Find the magic in melancholy,
The poetry in the paradox,
And the truth in the heart of the illogical.

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