Looking at the river of time passing by
with dreams floating like objects from a broken ship,
beyond my reach far away in the water.
Waiting alone in a lonesome corner of this shore
sometimes I gaze in the horizon
to the other side.
I feel forced to ask,
Am I awake, just to dream?
And dream, just to be awake?
what lies beyond this tiring cycle?
The freedom is visible
just let go and live,
like a poem without any message
like a drive with no hurry.
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