Rants of a modern lunatic

 A world of unseen heroism and happiness, I stop in this, I find myself into a jugglery of consequences, I find myself beneath the alter of a point, ever expanding outside and ever contracting within, never knowing the way out of this hellhole, yet I am always keen to move, anywhere apart from this oppressing point would do, any way, be it towards the sun or towards the moon or the murky sky or volcanoes, I tend to move but cannot make a choice, cannot make that leap, I fixate myself in my own prison of melted sadness, and I watch myself unburnt yet killed, and I watch many others moving towards nowhere, I watch them towards different addresses in Europe, in Asia, in continents, in kitchens, in offices and games, in occupied minds, and I know the path will eventually kill them as my point will do to me, but I revolt against this very idea of revolution, I confiscate my existence and I am here, I am here, I am here...

 I stared at the night sky, disjoint stars and the holy darkness binding them, I stared for eternity since I do not remember exactly when I was born, or when I would cease, and my contemplation wanted to take me outside, freer than the human idea of freedom itself, I no longer felt the summer heat precipitating upwards or the rustle of leaves imitating the grand silence, I only knew that at that moment, that exact precise moment, the stars were also looking at themselves in pristine beauty, in truest anarchy, in dissociation, in a burning glow that travels white within the blackness for thousands and thousands of years, while I stood there frozen, as if history is suddenly astonished and looks back at the past - a being experiencing itself for the simple pleasure or pain of experience through this moment, through mirrors that are nothing but us, because there is no eventuality but silence, and I feel tired, abysmally tired and let it go.