Manifesto of the Spirit

Away with the laurels of rest – they are a delusion,
A frozen reflection of the frost.
An inexorable ember leads us forward
Through the ashes of years into starry worlds.

Light and darkness have met in a duel
At every turning point of the lived day.
Here is the battlefield, the altar, and the path,
Where truth grows out of repentance.

O Universe – you are a book without a beginning,
Where every star is a living letter.
I drink your experience to the dregs, without remainder,
Yet the answer is only new words.

What is triumph? Merely a moment of self-deception,
When the soul has said: “Enough. Stand still.”
For the spirit, having fallen into its own subordinate shadow,
Loses the sky and fades away within it.

Only in labor – not in blind obedience –
Does the echo of a higher purpose resound.
The hand that creates builds steep stairs
From “who I am now” to “the one I am to become.”

Let the night laugh at the confident step,
Let the void sow coldness in the blood –
Movement holds an invisible equilibrium…
This path is dearer than a flattering song.

And if one must fall – then not into oblivion,
But into the depth, where one may sprout anew.
Endless searching is the form of existence,
And the thirst for light is the proof of the struggle.

Let labor become true salvation,
And doubt – the shadow that tempers the day.
For the human Spirit knows no reconciliation:
It walks forever – and in this lies the highest meaning.