Is the chosen way better than the life once known?
I think so but sometimes, sunk in the despair of my existence,
I long for the other life. Would have been easier to live with it...
Nevertheless truth is nothing against self-deception,
Deception.
principles are worthless if idealist can´t carry on his rules...
with his own recollections...So that's the better way.
I lived in great grief, for them, for myself but overall for the memory
that I could be one of them... and life's shadow made it vanish as a dream...
Me, in blind agony of my frustration, in more than one occasion
begged to live for anyone of its merits.
Did I beg for more
than I could take hold?
I maybe hoped perfection for a tortured soul?
A soul never fed up with sorrow...never minds now.
Here, where neither a star with
its poetical light full of mysteries,
Is the chosen way better than the life once known?
I think so but sometimes, sunk in the despair of my existence,
I long for the other life. Would have been easier to live with it...
Nevertheless truth is nothing against self-deception,
nor the sun with its warms rays of life
caresses this dimension of existence
Here the journey towards darkness
begins through roofs of cold stone,
though perfidious
walls which show death's tumefaction
in the glowing torches..................
Now and here the only thing................
I remember...the last breathof my mortaldespair...
I think so but sometimes, sunk in the despair of my existence,
I long for the other life. Would have been easier to live with it...
Nevertheless truth is nothing against self-deception,
Deception.
principles are worthless if idealist can´t carry on his rules...
with his own recollections...So that's the better way.
I lived in great grief, for them, for myself but overall for the memory
that I could be one of them... and life's shadow made it vanish as a dream...
Me, in blind agony of my frustration, in more than one occasion
begged to live for anyone of its merits.
Did I beg for more
than I could take hold?
I maybe hoped perfection for a tortured soul?
A soul never fed up with sorrow...never minds now.
Here, where neither a star with
its poetical light full of mysteries,
Is the chosen way better than the life once known?
I think so but sometimes, sunk in the despair of my existence,
I long for the other life. Would have been easier to live with it...
Nevertheless truth is nothing against self-deception,
nor the sun with its warms rays of life
caresses this dimension of existence
Here the journey towards darkness
begins through roofs of cold stone,
though perfidious
walls which show death's tumefaction
in the glowing torches..................
Now and here the only thing................
I remember...the last breathof my mortaldespair...