In search of the question I lost myself
I don't even know why I was born at the time
Was it because my parents were cheerfully loving
Or is there even a deeper meaning?
The miracle of whose life?
The Feldenkraises creep past me
The exercises are all the same
Ask yourself this and ask yourself that
The phrases just thrash around the place
We have lost all kinds of measure
Even if it scratches our consciousness
Nothing is as we instantly see it
Another rogue tells us to understand everything
But caught out of the darkness
All connectedness seems frozen
It is human not to know anything
But nobody wants to know anything about that either
"I've never heard" we shout loudly into the world
"I'm not interested" until you like it
"I know it all!" ah well?
and again you catch yourself trapped
Optimisation, even self-mortification, everything wonderful
what you want is so close you can grab it
You can do anything if you just want it
we are told and yet it's all our own fault
"Just stretch out your hand" is sometimes said to be enough
but cancer eats away at your life while you watch
also creates something new, contractually agreed
Change is destined, uncertainty characterises
You hold on tight to your home, a journey or garden green
Art seems to save what cannot be saved
The mind contemplates certainty to a new twist
But what follows only returns a new strife
Dualism breaks open in one breath
The moment promises itself freedom from strife
Utilisation beyond all measure of the moment
For it belongs neither to you nor to me
And then it comes, the moment of illness
which leads into the maw of death
You have processed nothing and yet your fame
Yet the moment holds you back, far too much to do
Understand... the mind?
aaahhhhh....
over, eh?