All that is left is an awful awareness
the coveted goal, vanishing silent.
A castle so vast, not even one brick,
can face the imposing breath of the wind.
Certainty, answer is the illusion,
folly is the moltitude of the cases,
geometry has been torn up by chaos.
Transparent image that covers the stain
an inlaid crystal, a painful experience:
to gaze at the veil removed with the fatal illusion
that there is an opening through which you're to find
the device of the mind.
So why is there sorrow, and why happiness?
What is the sense of this journey? Unless...