Caught in the snares of a night divided between the sacred and the profane
Caught in the snares of a night divided between the sacred and the profane,
where the stars seem to whisper forgotten secrets, I find myself in search of truth,
on a journey that parts the veil of self-knowledge,
where every tear of light, every shadow
reveals fragments of an esoteric existence, woven from fragile hopes and deep doubts.
Religion, like Freud, bears the burden of a difficult mission,
like a torch that illuminates the abyss of our fear of self-awareness,
for self-knowledge is man's hardest task,
a risk of revealing how his self-esteem was built
on the power of others, in an effort to deny his own creatureliness and mortality.
Character is the vital lie, a veil that conceals
the painful ambiguities of our likeness to worms,
as well as the divinity incarnate in our being,
and people deny both their creatureliness and their divinity,
to live peacefully in the world, fattened by illusion and comfort.
My stream of thoughts flows like an underground river,
where every idea is a wave that digs deep into the banks of consciousness,
and I get lost in the labyrinth of questions, where every answer
is a riddle that exposes how fragile man is,
a creature warring with its own destiny, rejecting the truth
of creatures and gods in the vast dispersion of existence.
On the land of this night, where moonlight filters through leaves
like an elixir of delusion, I find myself seeking meaning
in a world that will dissolve into its own paradoxes,
in a perpetual struggle between denying fragility and desiring transcendence,
a battle between dualities, where each victory brings a new burden,
and in every defeat, a growth.
This painful ambiguity is man's path,
a road paved with shattered dreams and divine aspirations,
where every step is a tribute paid to the illusion
of being more than a mere creature,
and less than an omnipotent god,
watch as every breath is an ephemeral dance
between the fear of the unknown and the desire to soar.
In a world abandoned by certainties,
where truths are but rejected shadows,
I begin to understand that our only refuge
is to embrace complexity,
to accept ourselves as both trivial and divine
walking on the edge of eternity, where illusion becomes the safety net
in a vile universe, full of fallen stars and dreams lost in the silence of the night.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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