Finally out of your own hole,
which you had dug yourself,
finally free from the monotonous there- being
finally free from the bad light.
This is happiness,
after the winter depression.
The day gets longer and all the songs feel as if you were the singer yourself.
The birds are chirping and life begins again
this burden is just a thing of the past
and the feeling of freedom reigns again.
Life, ah life, it begins and it ends every day, so true and yet so false,
so full of courage
and yet so full of emptiness,
the feeling, the absence, everything is life and yet at once nothing,
it ends, it begins, another day yet again
so different.
The imperfection of one's self,
the perfection of nothingness.
I see life,
but does it also see me?
I see myself,
but do others see me the same way? Questions over questions that life offers, but nothing is answered.
One searches and longs,
one finds,
but it is still rejected
That is is the world
full of questions
