How seemingly mystic
The conservatory ideas,
engraved into our existence
developed into passions
leading to so much.
How seemingly confusing it can all be;
the cyclic, linear process of life.
Neither dead nor living.

There is only self.
Only one thing I can be sure of.
Self...
whatever that may be.

But that frightens me:
Only self,
myself
only me and again...
i'm alone in the dark.

How selfish existence is...