Home, so far away. In this island, I am made of clay.
And the sea is the surroundings.
In dreams, I can access world beyond.
They include beasts of underworld, but I am not afraid.
It's better to achieve great things through fear and
pain than to reach level of no matter without any effort.
After the search, I find that this world has either no meanings
or a great saving, but nevertheless, nothing here can reach the ability
to talk to the dead,
reach to God, summon Satan,
swim in the ocean of universe nor talking the ancient languages
and achieving the absurd goals of this existence.
Night can still take me away,
without falling to the abyss.
Sometimes the hidden mind has more value than the spirits who call outside.
When that becomes reality,
this life doesn't grant anything greater than moral orgasms
to those who do not seek for levels such as the one of the moon.
This is the only thing I can tell you,
and this is the thing that no one believes in.
Not even myself.