~figure 8~ Poem by E Nigma
~figure 8~
Listen up and listen well
For I have just one more story to tell
And when its done you'll realize
That the light has finally left these eyes
I would say my, but they're not mine
Forced inside, somehow confined
The web is time, I am the fly
Escape is easy and so I tried
Yet, never fully wanting out
So I stayed to work things out
I adapted and evolved
Learned a riddle, just to solve
The problem is choice so I choose and chose
I climbed a ladder and cast some stones
I loved to hate, hated to love
I dug a ditch and buried that one
Is murder a slow suicide?
Traveling through towns with a blinding light
Invited here as a divine guest
My soul wanders closely to the edge
Truth be told, in birth your living to die
Choice is dying to live
A dream I remember long enough to
Wake and again close my eyes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 9:50:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Rereading this again its interesting spotting subtitles that may have alluded me before. Originally I saw the figure as a reflection of yourself but the last two stanzas alternate the idea that the being is more then just a man, perhaps the figure is ghost forced to walk the world, and live again and again watching the same catastrophes unfold with his immortal dead eyes. Truth be told, in birth your living to die Choice is dying to live Something of a Buddhist mantra hear, the wheal of life continues, we are doomed to live knowing we are born to die, and suffer the life that is short. Death is immortal and the figure 8 of eternity as is the conscience