Since then we died,
that’s why I found my birthplace.
We didn’t wake up in a life like a dream,
where we think we live to escape life,
and when we sleep, all we know
is that we are in dreamland,
living within that dream.

The answer lies beneath,
but the question remains suspended,
as time passes now
without confirmation from me.
During your life, you hear this well:
it is not for you, but from you,
that death gives life to me.

Now is always,
and never is good,
as everyone understands,
you are here, always seeking more.
Death is me, not from me.
Unaware, never is you,
and you—that’s me, always.