Dancing over your fingertips, asking for some
irrelevant achievements, self-deceiving there we are,
forever circling the Universe around the murkiest corner.
Do you really care about my devotion?
Do you really care about my pain?
Would you finally take hold of me, and so
put an end to all these reincarnations of torment?
You know that clay soil doesn't contain my soul.
The world created by time will be
swept away by time itself.
The idols built by desires will be
abandoned by desires alone.
In the post-modern Eden,
you are still that tangible,
unapproachable tree of wisdom.
Written by Minyan
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