The Cry In the Nihility

—vanity of vanity, vanity of vanities all is vanity— Solomon the mortal leads a life in limited idleness though, in the antinomy of a noble contradiction, yet, said, for life’s sake, can be devoted to his own life as a drop in the ocean, and trying to pay off the debt which the ancestry tried to pay off throughout hundreds of thousands of years, yet, not paid off, writhing, with the admirable state though, there is a cry and breath in the thickened veiled falseness, yet, he could not deny the falseness to regard as falseness, he has no courage to hang the affirmation to suffocate, and for the weakened mortal’s sake, the wind passes through and carries away a body heat from the exhausted soul, that preciously holds a dream that will never become true as is it were cracked harden air —hold a shovel, dig a hole! It’s your burial ground— nevertheless, to the end, no way to clear the debt, the body is crumbling for the lost breath’s sake, and the cry that of man closes its eyes in the vanity with the vanities of vanity