I am a silent observer of life and death.
Life is but a long tunnel,
never ending and never relenting
to us walkers of a reversing road,
to us bearers of a deterring load;
lone, lone walkers.
The mysteries of life and death,
boundaries of justice and injustice,
are but mere terms mentioned by walkers:
those who couldn't keep up with life,
as life is a poisonous road;
those who tried to break the walls,
which are shielded by the disgrace of runners.
Runners who are different and outpaced us.
Runners who are universally respected and loathed.
Runners who are not one, not several, but countless
hibernating fragments of our minds;
we can never perceive fear,
for fear is an illusion of a slow walker.
Life and death were brothers,
tranquilly resting in the midst of dancing grass.
But the poor walkers trampled the grass,
chasing after the poorer runners,
breaking life and death apart.
Running from reality
while being chased by a walker of truth;
this is a challenge that none could handle,
for we can never confine death,
as death is the only rule of life.
In the most optimistic sense,
I look forward to a time
when walkers may overcome life's riddle;
a meaningless riddle;
the perfect riddle.
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