Living Out

Life in the phase of living it out is still enjoying itself It produces small reasons for contentment It hones the skill of distracting itself with trifles Not unsuccessfully it attempts to insert a smile wherever possible Knowing that there are no hopes, it hopes In full accordance with the foolish saying that hope dies last Life tries to become more foolish in order to gain strength Still keeps some secrets nobody cares to know It lies in bed with open eyes Watching the performances of the sky or the chandelier But life never looks inside itself It must be damp and poorly lit down there Wouldn't it be easier to play solitaire Or look at the pictures of the sea again.