Hope

Yet another winter passes by,

as I gaze from the

jaded cavern in this

mystic no-man's land,

Slumbering and longing

for my hand-carved death,

pondering over

my vague efforts

to explain the inexplicable,

to reach the unreachable,

to catch the mystery

veiled inside nothingness

Traveling through the

warped labyrinth,

with a fremd premonition

in my heart,

I stare at the dead bonfire

where a last piece of ember

struggles for its existence,

fights against the wind,

clinging to a worthless

hope of survival.

Is it not better to burn out

than to fade away?

To forfeit all the belief

than to end up in dismay?