This is the Koan of the ying, the yang & the young.

Behind every you and every me there is a bee
One that needs to build, as she doesn’t know how to be
To be a bee is not to be.

Hidden behind self made rules we use to play bondage games on the shore. 
Building sandcastles all day long, we pray for an empire, 
only to obtain a vampire. By the neck he makes us wanna stay in a
deppresion constantly grey.  

But eventually, in the turn of the chaos tie the unpredictable sea come 
to us and washes all away… Washes away the Vatican, the pyramids, 
the United Nations and each office, play room, sex shop, and palace 
we have ever built.

This self-amassing confusion, free us from Pepsi and the playmates,
Aromatherapy, drugs, role-playing games, the masons and Amway; 
The so called reality shows, and the shows we call our reality, 
the constitution and the other book of law, the idea of war and 
fucking Yoko Oh-no, Alf, Papa Smurf and the Statue of Liberty…

After the tide, only our stupid upset faces remain, 
cursing the lost of a construct that strangles us to sell a ticket
to be reborn in what we used to call our own.

Suddenly out of trance, we remember the shore, You see me, and I see You.
And still surrounded by the remaining hug of the sea, 
we laugh at the marvellous creation left for our youth:
A non-existent barrier of chaos and order, the end of every boundary,
oscillating between the ying, the yang and the young.