Futility

What is your life? – It’s nothing but a fake,
The things you dreamt of, but will never have,
The fruits of Paradise that you will never take,
The songs you played to ears that were deaf.

You used to dream of fortune and of fame,
But you admitted that it was inane,
Sometimes you treated life as an eternal game,
But people would suppose you were insane.

What is your soul that once appeared so pure,
That once was full of faith and was mature?
What sort of fate did you have to endure?
Your soul had no wounds – there was no cure.

Deep in your soul you had all kind of knowledge,
The winds of years have blown it away:
You went to school and after that to college,
And learned new things in constant disarray.

What happened to your heart whose love was always true?
Your heart was never broken, but always sang with love.
What happened to the heart that people loved in you,
That must have been a gift from high above?

You did not love too much, but you loved deeply,
And those who loved you thought you were their light.
But now you think you’ve used your heart completely,
And you feel like a bird, killed in her flight.

Your life seemed once so lovely and so sunny,
That people claimed you were the Chosen One,
You smile back, but sadly, and – how funny! –
Keep waiting for the death that would not come.


(16.03.07)