When I look into the eyes of thee,
I wonder why you fail to see,
That we are hardly born to be,
Perfection is in death!
Not before eyes glimmer cease,
And ends our short earthly lease,
Is there perfection one rarely sees,
Such as letting out last breath.
Despite our struggle to survive,
To prosper and to stay alive,
To keep ourselves safe we strife,
Returned must be what has been lent.
Our efforts’re barely more than vain,
Extend hardly more than pain,
But one emperor’s is the reign,
The inevitable end.
I dare you to doubt my words now,
To you I openly vow,
Perfection is in death!
by Martin Krč
Year 2, Issue 1