Ecce Homo

The Angel appears to Cornelius the Centurion by Gioacchino Pagliei

As the end draws near,
All illusions disappear,
And you see each face clear.
Their voices sound the same,
All their words meaningless,
Even my very own name.
Did you ever speak?
Or worse,
Did you ever live?

Did you play a part,
Crafted just for you?
Maybe you stole one,
Made that the true?
Or you cracked the shell,
And lived.
Not all that can say.
Life our dearest friend,
Can go its own way.

So start today,
Move, run, think without strings,
You will find your way.
Worry not for what is lost,
For more you will gain.
Be who you were meant to be,
Yourself my friend!
And may you at a moment say:
“Above all I lived, I lived…!”

From my book Morpheus