Neither darkness nor light seem to fit,
I am out of place anywhere.
Brittle life seeps away bit ty bit,
Might be gone now – for all that I care.
Where future and past look the same,
I am struck with the sudden decision –
Nothing has any definite name,
And the World is no more than a vision.
No way out of an everyday’s prison,
Cannot fly what was made of a clay.
Even soaring above the horizon,
You belong to the Earth anyway.
04/11/2003
The way of life
© Copyright: Резникова Оксана, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104042700311
Свидетельство о публикации №104042700311
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