On the human condition
there are two sides,
as one as a coin.
One is the absolute poverty of the soul,
the cheapness of the build of a person,
bought and sold, their passion and dreams,
their humanity;
which mark human beings different
from animals, for going beyond
the herd instinct: sacrifice.
On the other is the struggle to escape
this sad classification
being only animal.
Isn't that where all stories spring from?
If at least the apocalypse erodes all,
if even one fictitious tale of a hero survives,
lives through thought, creation or revel
by even one person,
then the human condition continues.
Tragically beautiful.
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