#* code queueass

                  ＂ OSCAR WILDE ONCE wrote some lovely prose poetry . ＂ amusing , a true depiction of human vanity , the inevitable greed to be consumed by ones existence . lips curve , ever so slightly , as he pondered with spoken words of the work .＂narcissus , having died from gazing at his beautiful reflection at the edge of a lake for too long ,  left behind many heartbroken admirers . mountain nymphs wept by the edge of the pool he had died by , and the water asks them if he was truly beautiful . ＂ a brief pause , a moment for breath .  ＂apparently he could barely see narcissus’s face , for all he saw was his own beauty reflected in the eyes of he who gazed upon him . the title of the work , interestingly enough , is the disciple .＂

                  PERHAPS IT WAS ALL IN VAIN , he did not permit himself to doubt , to think outside of the realities and the possibilities aligned closely with this goals . but was it all really pointless ? his death , just as any other human , would mark the end of his existence , even if his name were to be whispered or passed in the thoughts of those who had lived alongside him . ＂---what’s the point of trying to save a world you’ll never end up seeing change ? ＂