Your wrinkles are multiplying now. The thought, the consciousness, liberates and cripples at the same time: The Old Time is still rampant on your trench wrinkles - but it's not a problem, it can't be a problem - at most it only grimaces in its vanity, you like it! May the cruel grace make you wise, besieging yourself among millions with question-and-answer answers, why were you the Only One?
Isn’t the glass of life a disgusted wormwood? A sure recognition binds you with a bridle and reins: You can no longer be independent, and you are free because you are stifled by the greedy death in the finite tunnels of your cells - you cannot break the siege ring that has been shattered around your existence like an unbreakable lattice!
Maybe then - if you will and maybe you run out of time - you will recognize yourself as the smallest, the most vulnerable all along: You will perish like dust in the unbridled wings of the wind, and insatiable and selfish in eternal love: Hoping to support and comfort, you will believe in being a social being!
But the proud consciousness: You have come to create, to create and to create will remain with you forever until you die - you will grow your faith and meaning, your knowledge; and you are hoping for a foolish mistake, or a conscious fool: perhaps your future will not be barren if future ages recognize the indisputable, legitimate fact: Applications, prizes, works that have won competitions are still appreciated even now - than forgotten trash cans, crouches deep in drawers!
Never believe in flatterers! - Be more confident in yourself: Whoever campaigns and operates with Responsibility and keeps the manuscripts is worth more!