Are words my rapture?
Caused by a lifetime of suffering, and
Revealed by the touch of a divine inspiration?
I merged with the reality of my soul, and devoured its bitterness.
I am a desolate soul out of light, where do I begin?
My beginning is endless; my spirit is merciless.
My love only gleam in a sensual atmospheric dream.
An ocean dream of my tears, and whispered love fading in my ears.
My reality is the mystical wind deflecting ripples in the ocean of my doubt.
I am a dark soul feeling the delicate warmth of the light,
My vision is a pensive reflection blurred by the perpetual irony of my life.
I am a romantic impulse captivating a festival of pain.
I am an image of the logical truth in a translucent vertical ray,
Reflecting wisdom upon the virtue of my day.
I am a theory of a kind illuming the philosophers' mind.
I am a spirit never at ease, wounded by the seductive breeze.
Are words my execution? Are dreams the substance of my existence?
I feel the stiffness of my pain drying up the blood in my vein.
I bow to the Gods humbly, and sadness becomes me.