Questions and rumours

Is it true that genius only comes from tirelessly rubbing the magic lamp, that persistence and hard work form the soil for the emergence of something unique?

Is our daily life enough to bring out a hint of wonder? Is it true that there are many called and few chosen?

What is these mathematics of progress made of? What is the point of this divine game that consists of getting so dizzy that you get drunk in the drizzle of your sweat?

Can one really meet God on one’s way, fall off one’s horse, leave one’s loved ones unconcerned about their distress?

Who said you could be reborn as a mouse or a shooting star? Who created these compartmentalized truths and then knowingly hid them from our consciousness?

The beauty of our quests, the dramas surrounding all these rumors, as many axioms as lies?

Is there only the body to call us to order, even if it dies? Is this how answers come when we are about to venture into the fog before our eyes?