Killing Tristan

A wanderer once wrote

I'm an empty word like the light passing near the windows
Endless fields seem so deserted in this grey season
Now let’s speak the trutt what came first
The light in the dark, or the curse of omniscience?

Tristan is alone between the walls that he doesn’t understand
This new world is so inexact and unjust
You have to follow the journals of st. Happy augustine
And you have to believe in that sense: As a lie!

Beneath the crimson dusk of the red sands
The death’s wish- is a strong concept

Bipolar flames ascend to the sky
The character is falling asleep on its pyre
Said the prophet-saint
But over the time this concept turns into a depreciation of the blind