If an ancient man saw planes two thousand years ago He would've thought they were birds Or angels from another world Or messengers from other planets.
Infinity is the end. End without infinity is but a new beginning.
Life eats life to live.
In trying to be perfect, He perfected the art of anonymity, Became imperceptible And arrived nowhere from nowhere.
All people are enslaved by something.
We hear only our own voices, still echoes returning to our emptiness.