the time has never begun and it will never end...
may poetic say it's nil?

ingredients revolve inside of an infinite blackness...
may poetic say it's nil?

there is no symphonic behavior,
just a chaotic conflict across the universe.
our centuries are a moment in receding of planets,
like the falling shatters of a res.

neverending natural cycles...
in far beyond the beautiful sphere of our tiny earth.
but completely there is nothing marvelous,
when I know the hypocrisy of material.

and again this stony world will be smoke,
in remorseless embrace of a black void.
then quietly and cryptic another world,
maybe a watery universe will create itself.

life and death are just words...
I say these are actions of an incontrovertible nature.

nothing life is true and nothing death is real.
we need some physical words to continue...

and I sigh because there is no beauteous fiction, left 
in the gloomy mind.
with all my ignorance I cry can't suffer this physical 
view anymore.

now may I poetic say it's nil?

like the water on fire or death on life.
now I hate my own thought however I made that.

I love my flesh but I cut I love my love,
but I hate I love my life but I wish to die.

I can't do that because I know,
there is no one beyond the stars who takes my illusive 
soul...

by the name of nought...

in far beyond this time, in far beyond this space.
in a gloomy silent blackness I'm searching for embrace.

like flying aimless ashes on wanderer weary winds.
I'm drifting like a torpid in the abyss seas of grief.

I wish to find my quiet when blackness shows the way.
I'll be the nymph of death, I'll swim so far away.

to where the dreams are dead, to empty depths of 
silence.
by the name of nought and lust, I'll sleep in the bed 
of absence.

for what you left me dying in nowhere of my thought?
you know yourself there's nothing in the nature but 
nought...

for what you left thy love alone in a corner?
for what you left my heart alive in its grave?

for what you left me dead?

I hate...