How does a man become
such a persistence which
rules on your life?
How then can the same man
faint in memory
and become a stranger
as the time heals
the passion?
What exactly is the remaining love?
Is there love or habit?
I think we still are more
animals than humans...
Perhaps all this wonder about humanity
is just a result of logical contemplation
and nothing else... Never mind.
Perhaps I am too disappointed though
and I see the sky with the shiny stars
as completely recondite and somber...
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