All our life is a fantasy,
more we go it takes inside,
in a zone that takes out past.
Towards a zone that makes our past;
Keeping space for the new future,
All we live incognito.
Much with eager, I got into there,
a world of freedom and fantasy,
creeps ahead in desultory,
to farm our ego as pointless.
At a dot, we get an ink,
as reality hints another thought,
"Existence of life takes charge-
solely with an impression.
which is futile without the past,
the sense we feel and about to see".
caressing about the past we left,
facing just the scene upright,
kissing at the bash to come.
all we live in impression.
quitting strangership behind,
burning grim in dark beyond,
I live forward in a blatant light,
never turning back my face further.
Strangership is an illution,
fanciful as an infection
in the ultimate mirage of existace
sprouting up an irony.
#1 to farm our ego as pointless - In a strangerland as a stranger we loose our identity and thereby all the judgements that comes with our identity, therefore we act as per our ego and inherent tendencies. We grows our bad tendencies without restrictions as we have a fake identity at hand ultimately leading to our doom. therefore it pointless.
#3 Stanza 1 - Describtion of strangership.
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