A·I·R

Under the mosaic ceiling sits what I am,
Sits amusing, sarcastic, and even mindless,
Looks around, there is nothing but floating air,
Steps out, marches in and plays a role of the universal spectator.

I pull my head up and gain the thoughts,
Have I been excessively softhearted, with the pathetic disguise of kindness?
Have I been painstakingly obedient, pleased by the white lie of willingness?
Have I been numbly tolerant, along the edge of wrathful roar of justice?

The world is screwy like the disorder pattern above,
And inside me emotions make their masterpiece of random world.

I listen to the words of the passer-by,
I hear the overlord from my back.

He has the shadow overlaps me,
I have the body occupies him,
His advent is inevitable, just as the darkening of the vicious angel,
His advance is insuperable, simulates the dawn of mighty devil,
His override is unmerciful, along with Osiris' frozen sentence.
And I beg for his supreme darkness over the world,
Exchange with my excessive soft heartedness,
And I beg for his martial path sweeping the land,
Exchange with my painstaking obedience,
And I beg for his conquering footprints crushing the road,
Exchange with my numb tolerance.

It is not a beneficial deal,
But it is an essential deal.

How about the woman?
Have not I liked the body of her?
Have not I liked the smile of her?
Have not I liked the concern and unruliness of her?

All those are obvious illusions,
Take advantage of my three characters.

And now I am going to trade them with the overlord,
I look for joy from disillusion and victory.

Now the specter betrayed his identity,
The impure composition makes me feel sick,
I would rather take off all my clothes now and run to the lake,
To get rid of its fakeness.

How can I find a better inspiration than this?

Get rid of its fakeness,
Question his inevitable advent,
Which will be degenerated by my awareness of life,
Question his insuperable advance,
Which will be blocked by my resolution of struggle,
Question his unmerciful override,
Which will be disintegrated by my reasoning of sensibility.

How about the woman?
Why should I cease to love women?
Why should I abandon the right to draw us together?
Although the time have not come,
She will be mine,
I will be hers.

You are not wandering meaningless under the chaos top of room,
You are not the spectator,
You are the anonymous guide of life.

Accolade, Illumination, Resolution,
You are A·I·R.