The writings left behind by those whom
Your fears implore wonโt have to save you.
You are not the others and you see yourself
Now at the center of the labyrinth woven by your own steps.
The agonies of Jesus or Socrates will not save you,
nor will theย Strength of Golden Siddhartha who,
At the end of the day,
accepted deathย In the garden.
The word writtenย By your hand or the verb spokenย By your lips,
these too are dust.
Fate has no pity,
And Godโs night is infinite.
Your matter is time,ย ceaselessย Time.
You are each solitary moment.
โโJorge Luis Borges ใYou are Not the Othersใ
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