What, Cervantes, not afraid?
where is your courage?
or is that in your imagination, too?
No escape, This is happening.
When life itself seems lunatic,
who knows where madness lies?
perhaps to be too practical is madness.
To surrender dreams, this may be madness. To seek treasure, when there is only trash…
Too mush sanity may be madness!
And maddest of all… to see life as it is and not as it should be.
My eye did not make this world. it only sees it. In other words, i am not Don Quixote, i stand in the middle - i am a true knower.
What, Cervantes, not afraid?
where is your courage?
or is that in your imagination, too?
No escape, This is happening.
When life itself seems lunatic,
who knows where madness lies?
perhaps to be too practical is madness.
To surrender dreams, this may be madness. To seek treasure, when there is only trash…
Too mush sanity may be madness!
And maddest of all… to see life as it is and not as it should be.
My eye did not make this world. it only sees it. In other words, i am not Don Quixote, i stand in the middle - i am a true knower.
