Litost

redemption through knowledge

Days are tough and long, and never do we have time to behold the sunset like we did
before. Goals are mechanized and grey, and never have dreams been mentioned anymore.
We have been buying desires in beautiful wrapped boxes full of ourselves, empty of
ourselves.
I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.
Sylvia Plath
Under the shadows of hope we stroll handcuffed by the light of the progress as the
pace of prosperity is set on the island of mediocrity.
Blind in our vanity we build high sand castles founded on our desire to flock into the
insane herd.
Where are you seed of human kind? You are lost in between the lines of the human
tragedy. A new old tragedy that cannot been seen or felt. Where clouds of pain and dispair
are as white and soft as the purest clouds of spring.
The tower of justice no longer shelter the balance of democracy . The sons of liberty
no longer cry for an ideal but they whisper echoes of hollow insanity.
A boy is crying in a dark corner where he can be seen but no one wishes to hear his
sorrows. His moms gone, his hope wasnt born. The dry delusion of reality