Arista Baba had told me about the land far away...over the seven seas and farther than ten balls of strings...there...out of kindness and care...someone has set up an stand...where he buys back all the frustrations, grieves and agonies and pays you back...relief and hope...I tried to make it there...but it turned out that I'm stuck...my ball of strings is far too short...even if it wasn't...at the first gate...first path...they would have forbidden me from going on...so that the sooth of my soul wouldnt pollute the purity of the path...but if you decided to go and if they let you pass...if you went all the way...please bring me back a handful of relief...and a tiny drop of hope...cause there comes a time...when you're so down...so desperate...that even a hint...a mere long shot of a hope...hope of deliverance...will carry you through...
He told me "it aint no tragedy...tragedy requires spectatures and an elemant of sympathy...it needs a protagonist to be unjustly treated and unfairly led..."......"this..." he said...."this aint no tragedy...no crowds...no story line...no unjust treatment...no notable protagonist...it is merely a late night act at a diner...in a cold corner of a dark road...where not even the truckers pass by...and your audience are a pair of drunks...a spider hanging in midstage and a cat...with uneven whiskers..."
Arista baba then told me about the illusion that he was...and the delusions that I have...he described the course of "ma vie"...which looks like a ring from an axial view...but a side view...reveals that it is actually a spiral...leading me down...where I belong..."avec qui" I ask...and he smiles "je sera la...avec tout tes illusions...".............and as Kepler knew then...I know now that only a meteorite hitting me in a head on collision...can throw me off this damn path..............
You try to hold me like you have never left...
But all that is left of me...
is a hollow...
the rest of me...is floating in the wind...somewhere..............
