Days are melting,
into an overflow of time,
and scenery is fading,
into a glass of paint.

Illusions stop creating,
perfection and saints,
and hidden truths
reveal their pains.

Wanderer, have you not tired your soul,
in these empty spaces,
of this unwanted world?

Wanderer, stop your pilgrimage
and your quest,
because there’s nothing there.
Recognize your own thoughts
and release yourself.

You’re not alone in dying,
don’t be afraid and cry no more
for the voices you hear,
calling for your love.
Find your path for a good rebirth.

Illumination is relief.