If you're lonely

you never show a sign.

No devotion

could ever change your mind.

No illusion

when your work is done.

Nobody knows you -

did you ever dream?

Hesitate

wonder why

at all the anger

you have seen?

does your blood run cold?

No light shines in your eyes

no burning flame in your soul.

your commission was written in the sand.

No emotion could ever stay in your hand.

No consolation

no word of love or praise.

your fight is over -

Samurai

Samurai

did you ever dream? . . .

"...Praised are You,

O' Lord our God,

King of the Universe,

who has Not

made me a woman..."

(Morning Blessings, The Talmud)

"Images of broken light

which dance before me

like a million eyes

They call me on and on

across the universe..."

"Perfection is nonexistent,

and we're all living

in a fake plastic world

trying to be something

we're not."

- Angalieneon

(?)

"When you grow up,

you realize

there's no monster

under your bed,

but millions of them

outside your house..."

(Yang Xueguo art)

"All that you touch

All that you see

All that you taste

All you feel.

All that you love

All that you hate

All you distrust

All you save.

All that you give

All that you deal

All that you buy,

beg, borrow or steal.

All you create

All you destroy

All that you do

All that you say.

All that you eat

everyone you meet

All that you slight

everyone you fight.

All that is now

All that is gone

All that's to come

and everything under the sun is in tune

but the sun is eclipsed by the moon."

(art by Lucian Stanculescu)

Death (or reference to death)

makes men precious and pathetic;
their ghostliness is touching;
any act they perform may be their last;
there is no face that is not on the verge
of blurring and fading away
like the faces in a dream.
Everything in the world of mortals
has the value of
the irrecoverable and contingent.

Among the Immortals,
on the other hand,
every act (every thought) 

is the echo of others
that preceded it in the past,
with no visible beginning,
and the faithful presage of others
that will repeat it in the future, advertiginem.
There is nothing that is not as though lost
between indefatigable mirrors.
Nothing can occur but once,
nothing is preciously in peril of being lost.
The elegiac, the somber, the ceremonial
are not modes
the Immortals hold in reverence. 

- Borges (The Immortals)

(©Vergvoktre)