In the night of my final sacrifice I sent my soul

Into the vast and fathomless unknown to find a word

A word, that indicates the beyond.

It came back later and spoke:

"I am myself heaven and hell!"



Sculptured in time as another chapter of life

Sharp are the thorns of the roses, which lay dank upon me

For too long I knew that I had to arrive

Yet destination isn't as linear as humanity



Touch the feeling - touch the soul

Touch the morning dew and see the glamour

In my stark eyes reflecting

The icon of a setting in a serene summer



So many flowers give away to mystery and loneliness

Their subtile perfume and their indifference

So much jewelry's forgotten in the soil, in darkness

Deepened in eternal sleep, where nothing breeds weakness



But who dares to tread the silent meadows

That lie beyond the mirror of one's self?

Who dares to reach the fanthoms of one's heart

To behold the murderer of life and art?



And what is death?

What gives birth?

What sells good or has no worth,

when everything you feel is cold?



Why am I? Who's this hand?

Whose decisions I can't comprehend...

But isn't history foretold?



There's a tide..in the affairs of men

Which, taken of it's flood, leads on to fortune

But all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and miseries...



Oh, didn't light prove the dark?

Didn't distress prove life,

With it's seasons all hallowed?



But if you desire to see the light...

As it truly is, clear and bright

You must move - back into the shadows



"There's as much difference between me and myself

As between me and the vassals of time

But, however, life continues it's sculptures

Like poetry without rime..."



We both exist and do know that we exist

and Rejoice in this existence and this knowledge...