LAST CYCLE © 2008
Everything is so little, and the gaze sighs,
In silent admiration, the soul withdraws.
It longs to be what it has never broken,
Due to a lack of inspiration, the dream is forsaken.
It was another victim of its own condition,
Believing in vain ideas, in false direction.
It accumulated debts, and life filled up,
With chains that, bound, it never broke.
A prisoner of want, but desire persists,
Within the masses, the heart still resists.
And at the end of the day, it travels in fantasy,
Where it sees itself a child, free in audacity.
In illusion it lives, like many others,
I in mine, in a world of fables.
And thus, in the long night, the soul nests,
Lying on the ground, where everything is but a small line.
A step away from madness, the mind stumbles,
For everything being so little, reason weakens.
But desire still dances, between reason and dream,
In the hope of a tear that brings a return.