Open the book of shadows
And read what is written.
Behold,
pages are umbra,
others panumbra,
and all end in darkness.
Scared?
Shout as loud as you may
But nobody will hear you.
Angry?
This is the goal,
For which you’re born.
Thus, pursue it.
Your ears are deaf,
Your eyes are seared,
Your limbs hardly obey you.
Poor you!
Poor you!
Your soul has never been there!
Do you know who you are now?
You are a mere shadow
Of some being in a mirror.
Indeed, you look alike
And have the same moves.
No one may touch the other,
Though you both think that
you’re you are tangible!
Know that you can neither be in contact
Nor separate.
Your gazes will always meet
In the lands of the desperate.
Each one of you
Is ditched in a groove
Where you’re chained
With shadows
and
haunted with unexplained existence.
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 6:16 PM UTC
Open the book of shadows
And read what is written.
Behold,
pages are umbra,
others panumbra,
and all end in darkness.
Scared?
Shout as loud as you may
But nobody will hear you.
Angry?
This is the goal,
For which you’re born.
Thus, pursue it.
Your ears are deaf,
Your eyes are seared,
Your limbs hardly obey you.
Poor you!
Poor you!
Your soul has never been there!
Do you know who you are now?
You are a mere shadow
Of some being in a mirror.
Indeed, you look alike
And have the same moves.
No one may touch the other,
Though you both think that
you’re you are tangible!
Know that you can neither be in contact
Nor separate.
Your gazes will always meet
In the lands of the desperate.
Each one of you
Is ditched in a groove
Where you’re chained
With shadows
and
haunted with unexplained existence.
