"...AS GRAVE AS THE PASSION OF BRUNHILDA"

 i am weary and my feet hurts

 i am a bundle of soft, imbecille enthusiams

 i beg the earth to take me back, to sever whatever chain holding me here still !

roaches of anxiety creep inside my cranium to dwell and to dream nightmares,
sowing pathological diffidence !  

to me, the world is not a farce but a Hero's playground

and Hero i am not

my existence,
a gravest breach of life
as grave as the passion of Brunhilda !

on terraces of love and light we overlook a reality far down below
which is dark and monstrous

and i feel fright and weakness

 and what is for man, what water is for fish?
 the art and spiritual warfare by which man seeks God!

 and the stubborn retention of the faith, the Holiest faith !

 i stand on my knees

 what can i do but hope ?