He goes on thinking.
His brain conjures up contradictions.
He's tired of hypotheticals.
He scrambles to grasp the concepts of the world around him.
Life is but a perception of your own reality.
You can't imagine the dreams nor the nightmares that leaves him stammering.
You can't comprehend what he perceives.
You will never have a shot in the dark to guess what's on his mind.
You will not be able to grasp his reality when your universe is in a different system.
The Star of Bethlehem is intangible while on this planet.
I cannot fathom why I won't stop thinking.
I will not accept any current state of time: past, present, or future.
I cannot pretend because my vivid imagination was traded for reality a long time ago.
I cannot look on with my eyes close nor can I bear to have them see reality.
What is reality?
Is it with eyes opened or closed?
What is buried underneath this asphalt that holds me so?
What path do I follow on this myriad of paths that I created?
The world will always be a lonely place. I, a ghost among the crowd, will adhere to walk the path I chose with cold sides.
I hope the Star of Bethlehem shines bright tonight...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem