Somewhere I have never traveled
And somewhere I will never again ,
Maybe this was a journey thus far
And maybe this won't ever happen again .
The problem with us is not lack of might ;
The problem in us is the lack of delight
Lost in aloofness and crazy consolations
And in nagging possibilities and justified desolations .
An answer no silence can borne
A preempted journey to destinations unknown .
A pregnant nostalgia of divine devotion ,
The sulking waters in the lake of salvation .
No comfort in competence of capacity
And no aggrement these conventional signs of society send ,
My metaphorical madness mediates the proven
Through spectacles this rooted world has given .
Somewhere far I can see it coming
A strong acquantaince of the inertia setting in ,
Like the end of the earthlings , always strange and poetic
Like the dawn of waltzing life , free and chaotic .