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steps one foot in front of the other the journey is endless and constant only seeming to cease briefly before the false promise of termination to hang in the cold then as if under the curse of gravity fall back to the source of all things endless steps one way or the other rising or falling it dose not matter now the one same as the other i have traversed the desert of life of death the desert that is eternal seeking an ending i have returned to the source where wisdom is folly and reason insufficient and unwelcome why then the effort when no effort might have led me here and with much less pain why then the sorrow when ignorance was my initial state and as a consequence of my effort find there was never anything but ignorance knowledge being just a sad illusion what have i now there is no wisdom no blessed end and the journey has found me weary not renewed not expectant nor breathless but weary and aching in mind and body so that one cannot fully support the other was it ever otherwise or is youth itself only illusion now i have come to think that i was old and worn even then and so were you so were we all always i have written lies still i value truth or say i do though lies have served me better lies are beautiful things they are how we live with ourselves they are how we kill ourselves they are how we heal the insatiable longing that have become tiresome wounds and how we live with disillusion lies are the voice of shadow the comforting shadow the cold shadow the dark voice of dreams the timeless impulse to know ourselves as if the only great quest is to know the self the worthless quest to seek the self my self is a liar so my thoughts are lies my words are lies my truths are lies my poems are lies i have been lied to and have become the lie i issued the lie and believed it for it is the truth of me