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Time escapes. Just like an ant coming out of the anthill. Just like a bird we tried to hunt. The hands of the clock jog impassively. They bring death while they take life.
And all for nothing.
From the cradle to the grave. Thus we are born and thus we die. Surrounded by irrelevance, trapped in a world that offers no more than doubts. Our acts do not bear fruit. Our fruits are rotten. Does it all matter? The world follows a prescribed script. Predetermined? I wouldn't know how to answer that answer. No need to do.
But we come from nothing and end up in nothing.
The illusion of thoughts, makes us figure a life in a straight line. A road with no option to move forward. Without a rest. Without hurry or pause. Then, the stubbornness of life, increase our days with curves and deviations; problems and unforeseen. Misfortunes that bitter day and night. However, reality is far from that straight line. It is rather a three-dimensional sphere; a circle drawn on the paper that leads us nowhere.
Just as hamster runs on his wheel; Just like a rat chases the cheese.
The advance is illusion. Nothing is worth anything and we always return to the starting point. We can do tricks. We can gain advantage. However, with the devalued prizes it would be the same as cheating the loner. One of many nonsense; another one of so many worries.
The image of a snake comes to mind. The cheap herpetologist, certified and subsidized by the EU, imagines the reptile curling on its body. Tilling the soil while chasing a fresh dam; A few hours in the sun. Its surface, its scaled skin, nobody knows where it starts or ends, but we all know well where it is.
The world is a jail. But it is real.
Thus, we do not know well where the borders of the world begin or end. We know they exist. That existence takes place in reality and not in fiction. But we question the progress; We do not identify setbacks well. And all this sows the magma on which the bewilderment walks.
Where are we going?
