Man and Woman Contemplating The Moon by Caspar David Friedrich


The things we hold so dear,

Have in reality no permanence.

Nothing is clean and clear,

And nothing makes a difference.


The moon and its pale beauty,

Is but a stark comparison of the night.

Alike a rose deemed pretty,

After the destruction of a cruel blight.


All things die slowly in time,

And our toils are but wasted effort.

Like the endless stairs we climb,

It is meaningless and without comfort.


In our mortal lifes we obtain,

Seemingly unlimited possibilities.

And in our deaths we bargain,

Our souls to the fates and destinies.


What then is our life’s story,

But a long defeat and fruitless battle?

For we can’t see all eternity,

With these eyes so dim and so mortal.


Hence the song that drives us,

Is nothing but our passion and will.

Maybe it is a hidden curse,

a blessing and a dagger that kills.


With pride we call, in hope and in vanity,

Yet live we shall, till we lose our sanity.

~ ESZ, James



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