Of words of love a heart may die
Upon all that's wished in mighty scry,
A dream of hopes, full of desire,
Bound by its soul in mind's truthful fire.
Of rhymes is full even the mind,
It grasps the world in all its kind -
It mirrors minds, it dreams the sky
In all its things the meanings lie.
A story builds upon the youth -
The innocence and all its truths,
From glimpses of the mighty fly -
In timid flaps of butterfly.
A flight is life seen from above -
Empty of hate, so full of love,
A book that trembles page by page,
In all the quiet chance of rage.
Turned to its youth the mind may feel
What was truthful, what wasn't real,
Adormed the senses of delight,
In all the blossoms of deceit.
A blossom feels in light the end -
More than it's right to comprehend;
The steps were there, upon the stage,
And were just lost of an old age.
Too old to question all the might,
That crumbled lives in black and white,
One feels the grey in every cell -
No need to scream, no sense to tell!
