There were always a few seconds, in between my transformation of the world,
Where a thought would sink its fangs in my spirit.
And there were always moments that appeared before my eyes to force me to live, the way one ought to live,
If they were interested in living.
All of these were never bad,
And never could be bad, so long as I was interested in living.
If I were interested in dying, then I lived my way to my death.
This way, I only saw what ought to have been seen, if one were interested in seeing.