Here is the wild and icy immensity of a desolate life
The one which was mine due to my past.
This past of a dead warrior
How can I make this life the way I should have lived it ?
If not by dreams I would subdue.
That way we could see me while asleep silent still but happy
Concquering a part of my wasted past making up for all youth's pleasures
I saw my mother and my father during the act of my conception
I saw the child I was becoming that picture
I saw once again the dead who were the incarnation of my own pain
I saw once again that man who followed me and watched me in order to help me
I remembered about that shamble and that rescue
But I annihilated those memories recreating from my dreams a new youth which
I should control
Travelling in the broad places of my mind venturing into experiences which I
have not lived
Filling impetuously my emptyness by braving the past through my dreams