A game of life
a bet without a winner
and your breath is a prize.
Respecting the proportions
the cost is huge and disproportionate
I deserve it
even if it is only one round.
A rotation around the void
a dead end that always ends there
in the truth of the non-existent
in the futility of nothingness.
You will tell me
and the earth rotates
ages now
however, it does not take off
of the soul the necessities.
Performance or representation
this trajectory of death
the circle of fear
which for sure
and almost mathematical precision closes
every time the curtain closes
so simple
like tying one's shoelaces
or as he puts a ribbon in his hair
or as he keeps a secret in his heart.
photo Image license by freepik.com
