From this life



Without doubt, few are those that realize what  this is all about, they cross it without weeping.

Even so, only for loyalty to themselves do they dare to face their own disguises which make the weakness of their humanity proud.

Every one haunts  his future for  fear of the unknown, and faced with impotence, involution finds  a way, and personality  is absent.

It is difficult to reflect in simple words, the reality of a  bitter life between the reality and the imagination, between the imagination and the reality. We hesitate, surrounded by an environment which is not our own but enslaves and dominates us.

We feel happy because we aspire to be happy; We possess because we are possessed  by the world that surrounds us. We support life with our own life and even so we are not.

Passing by, so alone we pass by.

With a capacity to love, but  do we love? With a capacity to dream, but we lose ourselves in our dreams.

We cry while we walk, we imagine and we do not dream, we see but without feeling, and  life takes us conforming us to death.