Cruel creation, the Mind,
daughter of sublime Mother Nature.
Subtle skill with which you wrap my Soul,
a cruel reflection of your own inoperability.
Feverish flash with which you captivate gazes
and, in the end, motivated ideality.
Infamous waste of boasting,
to the misfortune of many.
Eternal loser who knows
the fatality of your destiny,
where Reason does not understand.
Where do you begin and where does my Soul?
In what place is the line?
That invisible line that separates
hell from Glory,
sanity from Dementia,
darkness from Light,
slavery from Freedom.
Gaia set a cruel trap
for the trapped Soul;
what human misfortune
to possess both Mind and Soul.
Point and counterpart of an Eternal Question,
of forgetfulness and laments,
of errors and successes,
of hatreds and love affairs,
of sadness and joy,
of Death and Life;
because with every step the Soul takes forward,
there you are, crouching, ready to cut with your scythe.
Existing fuels my lament,
but it is that very existence that
calms and appeases it,
tames and teaches it;
until one day,
cruel and merciless,
you reveal yourself to the man who carries you,
who wears you with pride,
to reveal to him that you are only that:
M I N D
Written by Raúl del Pino during an LSD trip through the labyrinths of the mind
