I keep on walking in the dark of night,
weeping silently under a canopy of stars;
what a waste, the gushing blood of time,
void is lain beneath my feet on the ground.
It is in my power, I frantically fumble around,
drawing shadows, fleeing with an echo far away;
and dreams end in the dust on my way;
the heart beats enveloped in the dark.
Sad is a closeness lost in the distance,
the soul has gone crazy in an emotional war;
the illusion of words about infinity is gone,
there remains but the music of a resonating life.
I dwell in a temple built upon thoughts,
my etheric inner world is ungraspable;
not all that I capture is shiny though:
currents of pain, heat of the heart, weary woes.
That eternal child of other worlds
in the luminiscence of enigmas abound
of delicately bare ideas in flight.
To be everybody's? Not even my own.
To be everywhere? Not even here.
To be always? Not even now.
And still be...
My Enigmatic Existence © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Mé tajuplné bytí"
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