Impersonation

A hazy, incomprehensible tide

Of suffocating self-importance—

Fantasy as well as a secret

Should I show my first life?

I believe that fantasy is a loaded term.

With a rambunctious and waking thought

Among the creatures that have existed,

Which my soul has not seen.

If I had let them pass me by,

With a dreamy eye,

Nobody on the planet should amass wealth.

That image in my soul;

Those thoughts I would be able to control.

As a spell on his spirit:

Finally, in response to that wonderful expectation,

In addition, now that light time has passed,

In addition, my usual rest has vanished.

As it moved on, it murmured.

I don't care how it dies.

I then esteemed an idea at that time.