Links
Behind the curtain, and the veil, and the canopy
it's hard to find out what it's really meant to be.
The more you try to sort it out the higher is entropy,
and the most frequent solid answer comes: 'Maybe...'
The toughest question ever asked becomes a mirror
when, been unconcious, you expect to win the race.
Nevertheless don't aim so high: to gain a lira
in whole Big Life, even the cause's hard to embrace.
The path which leads to heavy boots and hidden meanings
is begging you in any case not to enroll.
'Cause almost all backpackers used to end up gleaning
the shattered, smashed aglitter aureole.
Some soon discovered the mysterious misfortune
in the peculiar mist of graveside near the bank
where river Thames is joining Styx, where have been tortured
the smartest ever. With their heart on poisoned fang
of folly beast named Mental Heresy Disorder
they have been burnt, and squeezed, and hung on careless tongue.
They only wanted to get rid of pungent odour
of universal lies, which still fills our lungs.
The others realized the bitter tear,
(which's always following the greatest of the world
with hidden grin and buried misery and fear)
dug down inch and miles, raised up and pearled.
The big mistake for all will be to join this drifting
and try so hard to solve all puzzles of the Sphinx,
but, anyway, there is no stunt without shifting
when you're not allowed to leave behind some links.
13.03.2013
NikA
Copyright © Alexandra Nik | Year Posted 2013
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