Shadows back and forth,
Remits in denial,
What in life is this worth;
The smile to the conscience..
To get is not to desire,
To have is not to want;
As to burn but not a fire,
As to run but not tired..
Cut thee hands; o mark of fate,
Shovel off thee dirt what’s left,
Secular sect resists to wait,
Dares to see the similar fate..
Of what exists and what will be,
Of what I have and care to leave,
That this heart longs to see,
What this mind refuse to believe..