Dim

When shall I know things so far,
If distance is not willing to be diminished?
Will I reach a star dying long ago,
If I be no more than a mortal?

Everything is far away,
And silence within noises is the only one who stays.
Be deaf, but says and says.
What uttered stands on mays.

Wretched, misused thought of Bacon.
Poisonous wisdom, sour as a lemon!
With the classics of God-dethroning passion,
The dearest gift to me from you: Isolation.