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The Secret Sits
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

The Secret Sits

Poem By Robert Frost

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.

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Comments (13)

this story is about a fower girl wearing a nose bullet
. Hold it there. No one truly knows. Socrates the wisest man, he concluded, because he knows he does not know. Let us enjoy and appreciate the secret, the mystery of life and unknown as is. Don't need to wound it with inadequate knowledge which never will be perfect. We grab sense the best we can and out we go. No more dance. Yet the dance continues, if that is any consolation.
We orbit a massive black hole and we try to figure out it's secrets, but only the black hole truly knows.
tell me why my mom named me this
Sound to me like the elephant in the room. We all know it's there, but we don't talk about it.


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