Look what have you done?
You murdered your dreams
with your own hands.
Your eyes are bloodstained.
Now you cannot see
what you have been watching
forever.
In the eyes of the owl,
the owl who guards the knight,
a raven of the king.
Now they watch your every move,
whether you dance or sing.
Unfathomable mind,
placable heart,
what is the difference?
The soul lives in the dream world,
and Zarathustra knows nothing.
Yet emptiness
is his bliss.
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