Our life is tragic
This I know
Tis not the tragedy I would forgo
Tis the knowledge of it being so

For then I would ascend
Into heaven
And sit with gods among men
Yet be neither god nor man
But be that which is
Before time began

Would that Adam had not eaten of the tree
And with such pain, given birth to me
This “me” that I know myself to be
Then all my hope and despair
Would dissipate into thin, thin air
Once you’ve established a way of thinking, you’ve become a fake. Any road that does not require a constant pulling out of the cobblestones beneath your feet will lead to a dead end.