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The Accidental Aryan

Hatred is a lake as on a burning day a child comes to low himself upon the bank.

So long he dangles daring toe a foot above the gloom, if only for the coolness of such a simple trick: the turn he makes into the fathomless bones of nature.

What harm is there in slipping a single ankle into the deep and then a bleeding foot?

He cut his toes upon the rocks and now he hurries, passing limbs beneath the line as liquid rises to his ears.

A startled goose acknowledges the danger of his lonely enterprise as growing bolder, he lowers locks beneath the waves.

So cool, so chill is he that to the world he seems an iceberg, floating crown above and bulk below;

And there, in those waters, he wonders why anything against him rises and he is master in the lake.

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