We are the lost one’s, who never fought...

oh well!... I was just 19-yrs then :)

The journey of this lost soul is a never-ending sequence – of enlightenments and ennui, of paroxysms and dullness, of staggering and determination… Nothing achieved, nothing lost. The compulsion of living is the only justification – is any!

Some arbitrary elements of fate, some random components of this purposelessness – and the life is summarized as a poker-faced personification of mockery on us.

The awareness that we live sometimes pricks the ego, and we find that there is no meaning, we live to die… we *are* dead, walking tombs, breathing corpses, engulfed in a cadaverous substance that we call the “vitality” of life…

Let’s lie in the green grass and let the fleeting shadow of clouds trample over us. To forget time, to forgive life for all its torture – and watch!.... and watch the empty men fighting for their different vacuums, and justifying themselves.

Let’s watch them boast redundantly of their burden – and console themselves. They deceive themselves, because they have been deceived, used as a puppet, to satisfy the whims of their own mind…

…Let’s forgive them for their compromises, for their catering to the desire to live, to be happy (Happiness is a consolation – an extrapolation on the hypothetical side of the reality).

Let us walk no more, but lie under the shade of the tree till autumn comes. And then leaves will fall one by one, leaving a naked skeleton of dry wood. The sun will burn our skins, the snow will freeze our bones. But let’s walk no more – there is no escape. Let’s not fight for different vacuums.

Let’s pretend to be sages and act as ascetics. The world will bow to our feet and we will laugh at the back out tongues. We will be god-heads, and become a star…

… and when the sun will go down, when the dark clouds will swallow up the moon, we will show the travelers their path to their grave…

Because one lives to die, one walks to fall – and never get up.

Let them lie on the flower-bed, when they get tired of their disparate fight…. For when the seasons will change, they will be lying on a bed of stinking twigs…

Let’s keep cool and maintain a dignity at the face of this life. Let it not deprive us of our serene and indifferent attitude.

We are the lost one’s, who never fought. Because it is useless to flutter your wing when there only vacuum… You can’t fly!