POETRY - SET #2
"IMPERFECTIONS"
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written by Don Hiser
Mother Nature is not a god, just a mother who holds a child.
The greatest artist, short of God, that ever walked this wild.
When God said "let us" design a place for all of my creations
Mother Nature dreamed a beautiful place, designed on his foundation.
She placed enough for everyone's need
but not enough for everyone's greed.
Still a savant schooled by God, the greatest teacher.
She adapted all for grace and style.
All was well and it made God smile.
A given task, and purpose, for every creature.
And yet men then cried out to God "You have made some great mistakes!".
So many imperfections placed upon this "earth-bound race".
Some things suffer frailty and others, in man's eyes, flawed.
With so many of these "atrocities", man placed the blame on God.
As God looked on his perfect earth he asked why these occurred.
Had Mother Nature not felt his love for each creation, well deserved.
A perfect world designed so all things thrive, not just subsist.
He asked if he should create again
and wipe clean all the faults of man?
Create a new world, this time, where imperfections do not exist?
Mother Nature bowed before her God, humbly asking to explain
why each of these imperfections were a carefully thought out thing.
"What might by man be seen as a mistake was carefully planned and placed
to allow all your creations to thrive, the entire "earth-bound race"!
For what man calls imperfections, are perfect in every way
A place for every imperfection, to be cherished every day.
To serve a purpose, not just for man, but for all things here alive.
Imperfections brought forth by your grace
allow all creatures in this place
to adapt to inevitable changes so that all things can survive".
God asked of Mother Nature "but why imperfections that wither and die?"!
Quietly Mother Nature answered, with humility, not pride!
"The imperfections brought forth by your grace, oh mighty King,
allow your creations all to thrive for the good of everything.
For your world is always changing and perfection cannot stand
though for a time handsome, its value quickly turns to sand.
For change and perfection are opposites, Lord, and in perfection life will fade.
So please give a law to your creations
to every soul, to every nation
Cherish and protect imperfections in this perfect world you made!",
"For giving man a law to protect all things that differ
your truths will cause this earth to thrive and never fall and wither.
For acceptance of imperfections makes your world a far better place.
Each man's worth will be judged through actions, from your love and grace.
Each imperfection fits your plan to find the worth of every man
and through this finding each man must embrace
those imperfections that are born then die, as in all things, your plan applied,
so all fit in this beautiful mosaic! This work of art! This total "earth-bound race"."
An answer rose from the Holy Host! All smiled and agreed!
This marriage of imperfection and change fits all creations' needs.
For God spent seven days at work, with the Holy Host (and Mother Nature) by his side.
and then understood that without imperfections this world would not survive.
So think, my fellow wanderer, through this life of constant change
that the many imperfections you see around you will arrange
for the children of your children, through time, at its own pace,
a better chance to survive!
A better chance for them to thrive
through all these imperfections placed by God's unerring grace!
copyright Don Hiser 2024
Section Title
"This Land is My Land!"
In constant battle Europe's nations claimed and then reclaimed
with the power over the lowly, each using God's holy name.
Pieces of soil where one flag waved, then another, end to bloody end.
causing many who for faith or hardship to travel to far-off places to begin again.
As Europe's nations chose to fight, sword to sword for their "God given right".
You could hear the same chants from both armies as their soldiers died.
"This Land is My Land!"
Those who left those western shores to escape that persecution
brought their religion to a "New World", full of promise and absolution.
They quickly forgot when they were persecuted, back when to masters they were tied
and prayed to their God as countless native "former owners of the land" suffered and died.
and through this removal of the "Godless" from this land where for them blessings now abound
the echoes of these "New Masters'" chorus, lessons unlearned, still resound
"This Land is My Land!"
As "Papists" battled "Protestants" in those far off lost homes,
in this "New World" the "Protestants" claimed its riches, God-given, as their own.
"You are a Catholic, born and raised, and deserve no presence here
for you will take our children's minds and warp them, a price we cannot bear.
So no office shall you hold here. No place to be equal in our power.
You shall be the scourge of this land. We won't let "your religion" flower.
For this land we did not take from those who owned it for a thousand years
just to see your blasphemy of "the same faith" rule, that which we all fear!"
"This Land is My Land!"
As those who escaped Ireland's shores and many from the "Far East"
brought untold prosperity and comfort to the ones who held the keys.
Keys to a land of wealth, to a great future for those who owned it.
"We'll let you in, but only if you wear these chains, these reigns, these bits!".
"We'll cast you all aside when you are finished, while little you will be paid.
You will build a mighty nation, (and on your backs that base is now laid).
As you build this nation, with disgust, we'll hold you away, far apart.
For you have no place among those who God has blessed with all his heart!".
And again with overwhelming riches these blessed folks over you will reign
and with a single voice these "New Born Masters" will again proclaim...
"This Land is My Land!"
As those wretched souls cast out from far across the sea
continued to reach the "New World"'s shores for what was "destiny".
And finding that the "Eastern" wealth was firmly in hand laid
traveled to the west, a land of milk and honey that for them their God had made.
And those who for a thousand years had occupied this land
were pushed and pushed and pushed and pushed, each time a smaller band.
Till bullets and disease removed them from their sacred place
so "White Men" could mine the riches and justify their race.
The fertile soil was given to "patriots" who a mighty nation now would build,
to reside with dominion, these "patriots", over animals and "humans (but not really humans like us)" of the field.
and as those who once held that land so dear were pushed to places of dearth, unforgiving
you could hear the new owners, just as "their former masters", shouting, "by God's grace we are given!".
So what are we to learn from this short progression of time
as land moves from one to another, stated as God's will, (or is it mine?).
In this day, this current time, we all proudly proclaim
"this land was given to each of us by God's own loving hand!".
And how that land was purchased, never by grace but in times of theft
just how this blessing was obtained is no matter! It was by God a "gift"!
Yes, our own ancestors cheated those who with this land were formerly blessed
by "their" own God and only for "their" children's happiness.
Individual land may have been acquired through our sacrifice and pay.
But how was that same land acquired, without payment. Who's to say?.
Did it truly belong to the seller, was it their right to sell it so,
after broken treaties or simple theft gained from guns versus arrow and bow.
We sit ourselves next to God's right hand with pride for all we've done
We sit atop our cherished land, a land that we call home
and say this land belongs to us through papers that now bind.
We'll fight to keep "our land" and "our faith" against foes only we define.
Because we now have the upper hand through ages of homesteads stole,
do we deserve all we've been given, by God, or taken from weaker souls?
Because we never learned the lesson of history it will soon repeat!
Our sins against our fellow man will, again, end in our defeat!
But go ahead and shout it! And forget you took former masters' stand!
and forgot how we all got here!
"This Land is Not Your Land!"
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Don Hiser copyright 2024
The New Underground Train
written by Don Hiser
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I'm riding on this new underground train.
Riding on this new underground train.
I'm trusting folks the same
as those slaves before me came.
I'm riding on this new underground train.
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This journey was one I never planned.
'Til I was taken one night by a man.
Now I'm crossing the state line.
Leaving family far behind.
I'm riding on this new underground train
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I heard Lincoln said each person should be free.
And all enjoy this land and liberty.
Before that came about
slaves took a secret route
as they rode on that old underground train.
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I'm riding on this new underground train.
Riding on this new underground train.
I'm trusting folks the same
as those slaves before me came.
I'm riding on this new underground train.
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Thomas said a woman never could
know what was best for them and never would.
So Abbott now decides if a woman lives or dies
and 100 years of progress gone for good.
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To protect all rights was once the well known goal
of justices when sacred was their role.
But they sold their duties cheap.
Their sworn oath they did not keep.
And the only thing they've lost now is their soul.
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200 years before, there's no debate
babes and mothers died, could not be saved.
Now religions pick and choose
led by caesar, pay their dues,
to rule this land while other's rights get waved.
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They say its my own fault, too young to see.
These laws are here to protect me from me.
No help for me was found.
So to the unknown I 'm now bound.
I'm riding on this new underground train.
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I'm riding on this new underground train.
Riding on this new underground train.
I'm trusting folks the same
as those slaves before me came.
I'm riding on this new underground train.
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Don Hiser Copyrighted 2020
"SO, YOU ARE A REFUGEE? "
written by Don HIser (from contemplations of all US border refugee crises from 1776 to the present)
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Leave me alone and let me live
my quiet life with family and friends
with sacrifices made both now and then.
There's no one at my door.
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Leave me alone and let me live.
I wake up to a morning jaunt
on streets paved by gold (but somehow
colored gray).
And coming back to my abode
where I am king, (or so I am told)
prepare to profit from my time sold.
No one's at my door!
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Leave me alone and let me live.
How ravenous I seize each day
while Mother Earth gives to me
light, music and ease.
And when each glorious day is done
and I return to family and home
no scars from battles lost or won.
No one's at my door.
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Leave me alone and let me live.
Your burned out hovels and burned out dreams.
I shed a tear for your suffering
Your hardship, pain and loss.
I quickly turn to righteous anger.
How could this happen in this day.
But that's a problem far away.
Glad no one's at my door!
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Leave me alone and let me live.
My proud voice shouts to the world
of too familiar conflicts and holocausts
reborn.
Fight for your own home and kin
and, by God, stand up like a man.
Not ours, its yours to defend.
See! There's no one at my door!
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And as I push that coming day
when the trumpet in the distance plays,
that villain that left your burning shores,
your home gone, still wanting more.
On my threshold of flowers and welcome
mat arrives
and stretching out his lifeless hand
proceeds to play his part again
to bring to me your same sad end,
and knocks upon my door!
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Copyright2018 Don Hiser
"The Truth!" (or "You Think You Know Us?")
words by Don Hiser
We never were "tree huggers" as some are prone to say.
We just loved to walk the paths, those enveloping (like a mother's arms),
silent (with its healing charms),
beautiful paths that never caused harm,
given freely, to cherish along our way.
We were willing to compromise as we gently "poked your bear"
whose only purpose was to growl "Me! Me! Me! Why should the f**k I care!".
We only wanted to preserve what God has freely given.
We fight for his beauty and his wonder. Our fight from this is driven!
Our fight is only with the uncaring who would turn our beloved walk,
into a pit of filth, denuded, a golden path so rudely looted,
and finally destroyed and polluted by the poisoned air!
We never were "gun haters" but seriously took the words
that to everything there is a season and purpose for all things.
A season and a reason for all things! Part of a plan
placed by that "Great Omnipotent"! By God's own loving hand.
As our children in their classrooms are murdered we ask "Why"?.
What season? What reason? Why guns designed to kill masses?
While our children cry, then die.
Or maybe it's the words of your new god, for your "freedom" you say.
"It's not the gun but those in God's own image that are killing every day!",
Those words never spoken by God and even he knows to be a lie!
We only fight for "reason"! We fight against disregard
for those we hold most dear to us, our children!, that those guns be barred.
For there is no use for them but to quickly maim and kill
our children, our parents, our friends and neighbors, so some can have their "thrill".
We only fight for some "reason". For some in-between
that we can find a solution. Some kind of resolution. Instead of simply ignoring these atrocities that now we daily see.
We never were against hard work. We were brought up to believe
that idle hands sow discontent! Through hard work we succeed!
But our mothers also taught us there was no "given". No absolute. No guarantee.
as we faithfully worked each day to be all that we could be.
There was no promise we'd live to reap that which we had faithfully sown.
Not ours to doubt God's plan for each. Each day a great unknown.
Our fathers, maybe as their fathers taught them, said "Remember! All is Fair!"
We would be fairly reimbursed, some day, some place, somewhere.
And as the rich grow richer and we pray for that "someday"
A day each time moved further to the future. Promised by those rich men teachers!
Never to be within the grasp, or sight, of the common man!
Your rich prophets foretold, "ALL man's future is bright", (or so they say!)
and, yes, richer they still become yelling "Foul" at a "minimum wage".
and so we learned that "LIE" instead was "TRUTH"
(as if from Moses) now marked in stone.
that the poor should be only tools, picks and shovels,
whose only promise is a heavenly home.
And according to that "Truth" the poor should be pitied for "uneducated hands".
Or is it they don't work hard enough? or is it they're just not smart enough?
So here on earth Hell's master laughs when justice the poor demand!
And if you knew "The Truth" of us you would understand.
We only want a "fair shake" for each and every man.
We only want to smooth to even the path the past has laid
to fairly treat the common man and sometimes lend a helping hand.
No handout is in our demand to make a better day!
We never were against the use of what God, the "Great Omnipotent", provided.
The power from the depths of earth to rid our world of strife.
We never were against that fuel that caused our cars to run
or lit our houses (built for ten but holding two), fed our crops
(more than our ancestors ever knew),
warmed our churches (no longer shivers of those crowded into pews)
and kept the plagues of Egypt from our lives.
Through all of this with that God-given fuel a brave new world was won.
But just as once oil lamps lit our night and horse and wheel enabled our flight.
this fuel, as the smartest of us say, "unsustainable"!
But to the rich, the coming loss of their "plum"!
At some point we have always looked beyond those established needs
and sought out more efficient ways to live and, yes, to breathe.
Now our smartest caged, both physically and of the mind!
Our failing, now impotent, foresight commanded to be blind!
While in that self-serving blindness saying "We know how the real world works!"
and a gradual, helpful adaptation falls to each rich man's greed!.
Still, there is no doubt that someday all will hear that fateful call.
and realize we weren't fighting each other after all!
Only the wish for slow transition to a higher, future place.
Where no one was controlled by an earthly substance.
A boon for the whole human race!
We never were against a mother bearing children of her own
though now some abort their faith's own teachings per their leaders (mostly men)
and say with that "manly" power "We decide for every woman,
every faith and every race,
It is God's will to push back, (Perhaps to ejaculation? Perhaps to the mother's birth?), the time that life begins!".
And those who think their grasp of power and their holdings will have no end
wallow in the golden mud they say, "God has provided for only them!".
Saying "as it was, it will always be"! In our father's words we abide.
But those same fathers' actions never took issue of a pregnancy denied.
Those sacred (to you) words of those fathers, misquoted,
were never spoken, never stated.
As a loving community they helped each mother, a solution now past dated.
With loving, caring hands our kin confirmed a mother's choice of her own fate!
But now you say "Be Quiet! Follow these new-found words!
For that was a different time! Different people! A different faith!".
So if you knew us truly, you would know we aren't against
the preservation of the lives, where life truly begins.
We never stated "murder"! Only just concern for each woman's own.
And new life receives from us when sent, a simple chance to be a president,
or a leader of faith, or a doctor, or a nurse, or a poet
with loving help from all for each child to fulfill their own unknown.
It is not easy to change one's mind, in some it will never be.
But there is no "Whose Truth?". No "My Truth!". Only "The Truth" for each of us to see.
We dare not bend our faith's own teachings to our earthly will
and disregard the words of those we follow, those prophets we hold so dear.
For "The Truth's" misuse is a path to ruin! No in between!. No gray!
And those who disregard "The Truth"! Those who disregard "the Way"! Those who hold "The Truth" at bay
will fall to history's unforgiving theme that "The Truth" will, and will always, remain,
unchanged 'til earth's final days!
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copyright don hiser 2025
A Place for Everyone!
written by Don Hiser
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To the mother who prepares each day the morning family meal.
Who brushes hair and kisses cheeks as kids go off to school.
Who dreams of things she planned to be
And in resignation, quietly,
smiles at all the blessings her true life has bestowed.
There's a place for every single mother!
To the father, waken, gives a quiet, heavy sigh
and carefully clads himself in armor as the sunrise fills the sky.
Who dreams of things that might have been
as he toils to make ends meet again.
Still he smiles at all the blessings daily life, on him, bestows.
There's a place for every single father!
To the teacher, struggling each day to keep the sacred trust
of children yearning to meet this world into which they'll
soon be thrust
With grit and sometimes hopelessness she works to remain
in that noble calling she loves, often cursed with
hate and disdain.
Then lifting up her head to heaven with thanks for blessings
she's been given
There's a place for every single teacher!
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To the farmer and the rancher, hard as nails, sometimes soft inside
rising to manage tasks, demands, that never will subside
With the strong conviction to faith and family, 'til his day is done,
he worries if this land will remain, from father passed to son.
Still, he smiles across the rich, green land and at the trust
placed firmly in his hand.
There's a place for every farmer and rancher!
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To the many true believers who live their faith each day.
Without concern for other faiths, they chart their own life's way.
With only love within their heart, not knowing to who or when
God's blessing will be provided, whether innocence or sin.
Each one knows that this earth is but a passing, death from birth.
There's a place for every true believer!
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To the person called "one of color" trying to chart his way
through not so extraordinary tasks all humans face each day.
But also to survive tasks put to him due to his race.
With steeled intent seeking equity his children someday can face
Then a smile slowly advances as he thinks of his children's chances.
There's a place for every one of color!
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To the immigrant struggling for a place his children can live free
and work to fulfill that joyous phrase, "for kin and society!".
Who, like our ancient ancestors, marches forward every day
to that "Shining City on the Hill" with the promises, once sacred, made.
But sometimes through the daily hardships
he smiles on blessed acts of friendship.
There's a place for every single immigrant!
To those who think that life was given solely for their nest.
and that God made all these wonders at their own private request.
That these wonderful variations have no purpose and no place
In their world of isolation parted neatly by history, faith and race.
I ask that all who read this smile and abandon any spite and bile.
Yes, there's a place for every one of us!
Don Hiser Copyrighted 2022
"Once I Owned An Army"
written by Don Hiser
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Once I owned an army and I sent it off to war.
I told each of my soldier's what they were fighting for.
I told them how our way of life was threatened at that time
by some vile and evil foe. By winning they would find
their kith and kin protected and our land would remain free.
Each would see their duty done
and march back home with victory won
to live their lives with glorious tales of saving liberty.
Yes, once I sent my faithful youth to foreign lands, to war.
While no one here at home agreed what they were fighting for.
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Once I owned an army and I sent it off to war
for "Life and Love and Liberty" and freedom of faith and soul.
But, as I searched each soldier's eyes,
gazing on that youthful mass,
I did not see in each eye's light the righteous words I'd cast.
I wondered if my flowering words
of home and hearth each one had heard
was somehow stained. quite absurd,
to each of those marching boys.
Watching my army disappear, to the horizon, off to war
I wondered how many of those boys
would see their home no more.
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In youth, as those before me, my bravado showed its steel.
It led me down unlikely paths of mindless youthful zeal.
I'd climb the highest cliff for a flower a girl most loved.
I'd take each danger that I faced to bravely "show my stuff"!
And when a friend would call on me
to his aid I'd run, stedfastly!
No question of what pains might be. His relief, my only quest.
Yes, once I would have marched off
with each brother, with each mate.
But there I only sat and watched
as my army marched to its fate.
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A poem or passage failed me as to foreign lands they sailed
to save from prejudice and hate
those names whose fight had failed.
Each head filled with bravado, just as I, in younger days.
My only cost for their sacrifice now, the words I chose to say.
I sent my army off to war and they agreed to go.
Each looking right and left they pledged to suffer any woe.
For I would never lie to them
or place an undue harm on them.
That what I said was good for them and for their families.
With each comrade, arm in arm they raised their voices high
for freedom and for liberty all then prepared to die.
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Once I owned an army and I sent it off to war.
While here at home those just like me
fought battles on our shores.
We tossed aside those blessings gained,
just to say that each were right,
Soldiers, and friends and family, now fodder in that fight.
Would my army understand? Each boy, as they marched on.
What was it they were fighting for?
What was it they were dying for?
While watching our internal war would they still march on?
Once I owned an army and I sent it off to war
Now my soldiers' minds have changed.
Their hearts I own no more.
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Don Hiser copyright 2023
Oh, Brother, Come to Me!
​written by Don Hiser
"Oh, Brother, Come to me now that life is done.
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With all our sacrifice tell me what was won.
Tell me Brother. Tell me true! Was it worth the cost?
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Your love for me and mine for you finally lost.
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Two young brothers, Englishmen in sixteen forty three.
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One was a Puritan. ​The other for his king.
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Both held their convictions and neither one would sway.
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Both were killed. No love was gained.
Who are we to blame?
Two brothers, North and South in eighteen sixty two.
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Their father was a farmer. ​He did all he could do
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to try and save his family, but his sons could not agree.
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One fell for the Union cause. The other, the Confederacy.
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Two young brothers from Ukraine in twenty twenty two.
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One lived in the town of Kiev. One in Sevastopol.
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Two brothers bound by blood with different realities.
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One died for the Russian Tsar. The other for liberty.
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Two brothers of the same faith who shared their liberty.
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One traveled foreign lands. The other raised a family.
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Two brothers bound by blood with different realities.
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Both will pass. Love will be lost
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'cause they could not agree."
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Don Hiser Copyrighted 2022
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