Nada perdura,
Nada es para siempre,
Not even the sea,
Not even you and me
Not even memories
That become faded,
And past,
No, nothing lasts.
Life is a procession
Towards nothing
With an obsession
For happiness,
Never found.
We are born with nothing
And with nothing we leave
Nada and Nothing
Are the end of everything
And when we leave,
No one will even remember
We had ever been around,
Nothing gained, Nada found.
For the middle class,Or any class in ‘distress’,In other words,They just don’t care,Power corrupts,Even before it’s there.
This Love,Revolutionary!Is more than,One humanly can bear.To ignite such a flame,Is no simplistic game,You need rivers,Gushing into oceans,The Universe,Bursting into flame,You and me together,As one and the same.
Beauty seems to be a stranger,Held in valor, less and less.Makes us think and also wonder,What the future will uphold?If all Beauty does go under,Emptiness will then unfold,Fellings will forever shatter,In a World completely cold.
Like with a motor,In the dark,I’m speaking of creative Art,It cannot live,Without ‘the Spark’,That lights the way,To inspirational mystery,Without which, creativity,Would only fall apart.
Without the question of,To be or not to be,Emotionally,There’s no objection.
The oldest and less profitableOf all Arts,But who cares?As long as it touchesThe deepest fibersOf loving hearts.
