Nation of Slaves
Fiction & Literature, Poetry, Literary Theory & Criticism, Nonfiction, Social & Cultural Studies, Political Science
| Author: | Bagarea Cosmin Ionut | ISBN: | 9781504935180 |
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse UK | Publication: | January 9, 2015 |
| Imprint: | AuthorHouse UK | Language: | English |
| Author: | Bagarea Cosmin Ionut |
| ISBN: | 9781504935180 |
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse UK |
| Publication: | January 9, 2015 |
| Imprint: | AuthorHouse UK |
| Language: | English |
I am the missing link in the genetic chain of a national lie but also the practical recoil of the theorys execution of his existence. When the pragmatic longevity of the blinding intellectual law gives signs of tiredness, I charge my weapons with lethal intentions. I am the hatred hidden of the darkness that restricted freedom The blood left offering of shame when the Dacians were completing the Romanity. As a God brought back to life by a tear that wishes revenge I dig up the hatchet of war in the name of the Dacians who arrogate their country. I am the moment who commands eternity, the new moral law, seduced by the grace of the spirit born of rational thought. And what I leave behind the front of the confrontations between truth and lie will last, in times not invented yet, just as a whispered apology. I am my own reverie reached the maturity of ignorance of a confused past that just spontaneously shows it to me. A last desire of the history is the echo from the woods shouted, it wakes my antipathy of a country even now in present subjugated.
I am the missing link in the genetic chain of a national lie but also the practical recoil of the theorys execution of his existence. When the pragmatic longevity of the blinding intellectual law gives signs of tiredness, I charge my weapons with lethal intentions. I am the hatred hidden of the darkness that restricted freedom The blood left offering of shame when the Dacians were completing the Romanity. As a God brought back to life by a tear that wishes revenge I dig up the hatchet of war in the name of the Dacians who arrogate their country. I am the moment who commands eternity, the new moral law, seduced by the grace of the spirit born of rational thought. And what I leave behind the front of the confrontations between truth and lie will last, in times not invented yet, just as a whispered apology. I am my own reverie reached the maturity of ignorance of a confused past that just spontaneously shows it to me. A last desire of the history is the echo from the woods shouted, it wakes my antipathy of a country even now in present subjugated.
