sábado, 3 de setembro de 2011
Another boastfully fantasy
At the bottom of some old arc,
Hidden from the sight of the world,
In the cellar of my dreams.
Opened my mind to what was to come
Still not clear what it was to me,
To see so free and clear
All that I miss all these years.
I wasn't ready to endure such rapture,
To consign and bear this mark
Through a path so dark and cold
Where nothing and everything is at it seems.
Light shines only on some
And enlightened they come to be,
Without the slightest hint of smear
Facing their blackened fears.
Locked the arc in the cellar,
Threw away the key
And thought it to be
Another trick of the mind,
Another boastfully fantasy.