Graceful as dancer’s arabesque and bow,
Our lives
appear serene and without stress,
A gentle
dance around pure nothingness
To which
we sacrifice the here and now.
Our
dreams are lovely and our game is bright,
So finely
tuned, with many artful turns,
But deep
beneath the tranquil surface burns
Longing
for blood, barbarity, and night.
Freely
our life revolves, and every breath
Is free
as air; we live so playfully,
But
secretly we crave reality:
Begetting,
birth, and suffering, and death.
Herman Hesse
(Picture: A l'horizon, l'ange des certitudes, et dans le ciel sombre, un regard interrogateur, Odilon Redon)
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