Is there a special chamber in hell wherein the raucous laughter of politicians is fried alive?

 

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Isn't memory

a transcendental ship that carries us to the past,

and hope a vessel that speeds along uncharted waters?

 

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What caused our planetary revolution in the first place,

the rippling laughter of a clown

or the uncontrollable sobs of a child?

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If it is true that

truth like sunlight

goes straight to the heart

how many more suns are necessary

for the consecration of justice?

 

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