O would, I could dismiss my mind from duty
And enjoy a freewheel spell of older age,
I have lingered long enough at loves full manger,
Time to turn the margin of this page.
What remains, within the veins?
Stiff mixture of heaven, hell and pen,
I wish I could conceal myself in stillness
Indifferent to the lives of other men.
The mind, the only source of self-protection,
Tries to know another human heart,
Only when you find no need to know
You may live together or apart.
Nothing in life remains forever urgent,
Man’s finalities denied by each new dawn,
We all abandon substance for the shadow
The truth lies only in the blundering on.
Someone else’s dreams will get you nowhere,
Silence, a more lethal threat than word,
All the marks we made will surely fade,
Death; the ultimate truth, a voiceless bird.
History is a bag of self-deception,
To deceive another is a Trojan horse
Which backfires when we least expect it,
An endless boomeranging maiming curse.
Yet that bounteous aquifer hope springs eternal,
All fade and wither will once again renew,
Behold that wondrous tent we call the sky
Of cerulean, lapis and turquoise blue.
