Poems
sex is the illusion
that we are the creator
but we are not
no person has ever fathered a child
nor conceived one
it is a mad ideal
delivered to us at birth
which told us,
"i am your father,
i am your mother"
this lie set us up for the rest
not in malice
not in contempt
not in evil
but in ignorance
of our true being
where within we came
of our own Self
as did they
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