Deliria

The burnt ashes of a man's victory
Bring to him his greatest fall
For those who find this contradictory,
May be burning most of all.

A man's fantasies, a man's dreams
Go up in flames and burn brightly
Sometimes darkness comes in reams
And forces him to die nightly.

But a shadow has naught, no fear
Of laughter, joy and frivolous strife
To man as common as drinking beer
And leading a hollow, sorry empty life.

Since birth begotten, it is our fate
To fight for nirvana and when accorded
To linger draw breath and hesitate
Like over a death penalty he lorded.

Our life is a series of meaningless lies
Crippling sorrows, fragile props
Murky, disorderly, demonly flies
That buzz about our own dead corpse.

And when death comes we fight that too
Discontent with everything, in dark gloom
Suspicious even of being let through
Into God's arms to once again bloom