Un hombre dialogando con su ego

The knowledge and its unfathomable immensity overwhelm me
The more I know, the more aware I become of my ignorance
I believe there is no greater deception than pursuing the truth
Nor greater folly than not giving it importance

And although a stubborn sentence usually inhabits me
Before dying knowing, bury me with doubt
Perhaps one day my ego will expire, and cry out for silence's help
Regretting not having lived with a silent mouth

And even if I united in me all the knowledge of the sphere
I would still be an ignorant bumpkin of what lies outside
And yet, my unconscious conscience despairs
Seeking new answers so the question dies

If knowing in detail the earthly culture
Is like lighting a match in this dark infinity
So ridiculous is this craving, leading me to madness
And so constant is this intriguing voice that whispers to me

And if I imagine a scenario ruled by the impossible
In which the entire universe would be knowable to me
What good is it to become attached to the knowledge of the extinguishable?
Why is everything so cold and my consciousness so sensitive?

Immersed in study, I feel like a vain witness
I know time pursues me in every goal I pursue
For I know the world I conceive will die with me
And I feel a strange coldness for which there is no shelter

So precarious is everything collected by history
It is nothing more than another fragile and collective memory
Always exposed to possible destruction
Indeed, to its imminent, said with correctness

And just as my memories will perish with me
And I am aware of the ephemerality that rocks me
When the death of others agrees
There will be no trace of what happens

If even the galaxies will bid farewell one day
And the universe will be nothing but a cold mass
When thermal death exterminates matter
And the cosmos yields to the supremacy of entropy

And knowing that the time we have left is the currency
With which the living rents every second of life
Without even being aware of their heritage
Trusting in a contract that doesn't know when it expires

I spend on learning my unknown wealth
Knowing that knowledge is an unending thirst
A goal that always moves away, especially
For the one who runs fast than for the one who walks
And yet, I appreciate this ambitious slow death
The times I realize how much it benefits me
(Despite being native to this world where it seems)
Cultivating the internal where the superficial encourages

When study hours translate into advantage
I am clear whose mind is mine and who it works for
My intelligence will never fit into a box
Those who want to limit theirs should wear their shroud

When I glimpse a previously known trap
Thanks to a built wisdom
I avoid suffering that ignorance would make me endure
And this behavior is joy, as it opposes displeasure

If I could be born again
I think I would do nothing else, as everything would tend to undo me
Since I am who I am because of what I have been
And with bad schemes and good ones I have sewn my fabric

If I could go back to the past and see my younger self
I know the visit and advice would be of little value to me
Because there are things I know I wouldn't understand at the time
And landscapes that are seen at a certain point of the road

And with vertigo I can only say: Who would have thought?
Because I contradict myself at least once a day
And I only know that today will contradict my yesterday
I do it again today, and I will do it again tomorrow
And it's not capriciousness, but evolutionism
Because, how could I always think the same while progressing?
I would reach 50 and still be a child
But I'm 24, and I keep an egocentrism

If it weren't for this unusual behavior
I would never have healed, I can promise that
That's why I haven't lost my temper when I say
That thanks to knowledge I stay alive

Because otherwise existence would have no place
Where suicide seemed to be the only way out
Study and reflection forged the counterpart
That's why I owe my life to knowledge

I could live without questioning, but I refuse
Being the black sheep of this flock of sheep
The world seems smaller to me the more I detach
But I'm just a man dialoguing with his ego

And I know for years I held incorrectly
The belief in the existence of a direct relationship
Between unhappiness and a select intelligence
Perhaps for finding myself halfway to the straight

But as far as my current conception is concerned
I consider that sentence vague and imperfect
That the mind itself constitutes the greatest sect
And for every thought there are more than ten thousand accepted

And I'm not afraid to err if I say that this accumulates
Even to free thinking and one's own idea
Knowing myself a hypocrite at this very moment
Sectarian of myself, and of my reasoning

But despite the former assumption of this relationship
I always had a clear idea by logical deduction
If intelligence enables resolution
Taken to a certain point it will solve all affliction

And contradicting what I was directive of
How can a wise person be wise if they don't know how to be happy?
I know I'm deconstructing what I said years ago
But I spoke through my mouth the language of disillusionment

However, I neither disdain nor insist on what I said
The excitement of the hanged man is valid, but it requires
Adding to this matured vision that corrects it
And reserves its usefulness for those afflicted by life

Since in the first stage of this journey it is true
That life becomes tasteless and confusion governs
Because disappointment dwells where illusion has died
And those who once saw mirages now contemplate the desert

But then, kilometers away from that
What was a hard process becomes a beautiful progress
Those at the base doubt with a strange look
The joy of being at the top of the mountain

It is true that knowledge is not initially pleasant
And that's why the unconscious will attempt its enterprise
Many believe they are incapable, for fear of being timid
But here everyone is free to cling to their story

The beginning is a difficult and painful path
Hard, but fruitful, straight, but tortuous
Memory knows that even the most tiring walk
Is momentarily ugly, but eternally beautiful

My evening fate, a Thursday when I finish
Put an end to my agony and was my guide on the way
Motor of the volitional that deserts destiny
Who makes himself his own God, and says goodbye to the divine

And without vain pretensions to say something emotional
I say that I don't miss the truth by a hair if I write
That: If I wake up smiling every day, this is the reason
And those who are not aware can call me obsessive

Studying day after day, cultivating your intellect
And even if everything goes wrong, know that you are doing the right thing
Because you are the engine of your life, and there is no rest
Just stop thinking about the dead man and the meek