Onlooker to your own empty life,
you try to conceal, it was not that simple,
to confess in silence.
Pain was the first question,
I give no answer.
The smell of pungent sweat and levitating incense
are entwining in the air.
Seeking my own truth,
I abandon the path and fall upon lies.
The lofty drama of life unfolds...
I was not seeking any labels.
Devoid of sanity,
the possessed people were dancing,
around the fire without flames.
Fear of infinity haunts me,
I must answer to myself to solve the mystery.
Of the fragility of my existence,
amidst the sounds of stubborn,
half-baked truths.
This is, therefore a part of my poem,
dedicated to a failing god.
