Surreal but profound,
I've lost too much.
Fickle and serene,
There's too much at risk.
Found, then lost,
I search out myself.
With and without,
Always I am here.
In despair and newfound hope,
I am forever moving.
Forever changing am I,
And ignoring those that scorn,
For they cannot seek and find
The minimalism of it all,
And are endlessly lost.
But contradictable I am
When the raven's call
Does not pierce all.
And when I walk straight through without
Knowing anything.
Superstition is not all in vain to me,
For when what is appears,
I care not to see the daylight again.
But realism prevails on the common night,
And I am set free again.
Free again to be human,
Free again to be inane and happy.
All is well after I give up my never-ending
And sorrowful wanderings,
But I cannot dwell too long in reality,
I am senselessly bored of what is before my eyes.
Yet the eye of mind is otherwise,
Wandering, rambling, winding
Down the endless paths of thought.