Untitled p.18

hanging in a cosmos of words
and meanings
and metaphors
and art and music where we blindly dive in

a confidential mirror echoes its sigh and implores
to let it flow and be open
to a moonbeam strike
anyhow, despite myself
I’m a human being

living is going with quivering steps
in this dense fog built-in labyrinth
into our inner depth

get experience and rebirth
perhaps that’s the aim of the human race…
we are human beings
each one in his parallel dirt
existing, living
unlike lens but same thirst

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