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I err towards optimism,
more though in hope than expectation,
it must be said.
But where does optimism end and hope begin?
Or do both work together?
Pray to God and row towards the shore.
Vision there again, must be just hope diluted,
with three parts reality.
But when does optimism become blind?
Move from the determined to the impossible.
Somewhere between swallowing the spider and the horse.
The old woman should have stopped,
At the cat, perhaps.
