Ouroboros

music, DIY as much as possible,

O tree of life, when does your winter come?
We are not in harmony, our blood does not forewarn us
like migratory birds'. Late, overtaken,
we force ourselves abruptly onto the wind
and fall to earth at some iced over lake.
Flowering and fading come to us both at once.
And somewhere lions still roam and never know,
in their majestic power, of any weakness.
- Rilke

Life is a dream for the wise, a game for the fool, a comedy for the rich, a tragedy for the poor.
- S. Aleichem