Abstract Senses

On this fall morning,

leaves are creeping and dreary.

I scowl at this landscape

desperately, where a thousand

faces is hidden, but for Wise Men.

Would this infernal and fantastic

noise charge at the edge?

Or do my shameful thoughts

smile upon you?

I can feel, I can touch, I can hear,

I can taste and I can see...

My senses are trustworthy.

Oh Thee, blind friend and enemy,

may this veil vanish in the haze

and judge life as it is. No, don't be so

sad, breathe, deliverance looks like death!

Should this clownish and deadly role

remain sunk in the depth of our soul?

Or maybe my bitter feelings

are leading to torture...

I can feel...

I am tired of all those false illusions,

freezing step by step... I am sick of all

those arficial backgrounds, unsincere

and speechless, filled with venom.

I can feel...

May God drag them away rather

than believe in those chains.