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Infinite Reasons Why Rejecting Heaven Is Good For Your Health

Steven Clifford

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There’s no such thing as a uniform of everything,

experiential neutrality,

event-sameness stretching all through life’s single hallway.

In unpragmatic paradise,

the walls are a featureless white. The ceiling is unrevolutionized,

so one can’t stand on the roof

where chaos soars. Bring me earth

where I follow the twisty flow

from matter to wave, moment to moment’s opposite

and then its opposite. Existence is not an only-child,

but fraternal twins,

one named order: the lazy eye

of the storm: chaos,

is the other.

Among the devastation,

boredom is not a disease. No. A necessity.

Something mundane as dust shades the wind, of extraordinariness,

otherwise invisible.

If seen everlastingly

it’s the new ordinary,

dopamine’s dictator accepted as the people.

The fishing rod’s infrequent luck glorifies the one catch of uniqueness:

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Steven Clifford
Steven Clifford

Written by Steven Clifford

Clifford is a writer and poet from Long Island, NY. He’s “mentally Ill” but considers it a gift with consequences from a generous muse.

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