To see what we have never seen,
To be what we have never been,
To shed the chrysalis and fly,
Depart the earth, kiss the sky,
To be reborn, be somebody new:
Is it a dream or is it true?
Can our future be clearly shorn
From a life to which we were born?
Is each of us a creature free—
Or trapped at birth by destiny?
Pity those that believe the latter.
Without freedom, nothing matters.
The Book of Counted Sorrows by Dean Koontz
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