Sunrise

A long time has come to past

The morning sun has shown at last

There is a new life in the forest

On old cracking leafs it rests

Death can not suffer the living

It waits to reap 

Those who are fighting

When the dark night outlasts

All those who embrace the morning

  


Lone wolf

Behind are the winters

That have come to past

Alone is the rider

No one to outlast

The field now lingers

And the altar is silent


Yellow is gone

Yellow is gone
Not even grey
Stood by my way
Just left was I alone

Colorful they say
A feature of me
Near and away
At land and by sea

It keeps getting darker
red in the sea
The sun keeps plunging
Lesser do I see
The black cloak prevailing

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Forsaken Branches

Same words are said
No meanings to embed
Sad becomes ridiculousu
And no longer fabulous

Can’t say healing
Just lost few meanings
That face in the mirror
Have shed few colors

The pain prevails
The reasons fade away
A head shake or two
Can tell what is through

That bird is gone
Don’t cherish the forest
a branch on it own
No wings or feather
As good as a tomb
Forsaken forgotten
Hidden inside
Surprising to find
Your own soul linger

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Morse Code

Nights of darkness
The warmth of blood stolen
No memories to harness
Only void, words unspoken
What Is, what could have been
The immaculate beauty
Of a well hidden sin
All gone now
Nothing left of the forest
Subduction and bows
To a brutal desert
Nothing to feel
So dry once a river
The gold of the sun
In the shadow of shivers
a heart in the gloom
A dying horizon
And a love surreal

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Ink

Spilling down the ink
That spreads on my paper
Giving flesh to ghosts
Fleeing from a far
Looking to the spring
As a sole creator
Saving what is lost
Removing the darts

There stands the virgin
On the nave of my altar
One I have worshiped
In the apse of my heart
Good end to imagine
For a helpless harper
Whose music is whipped
By the darkness of an art

That soaks the leafs
Of his meaningless existence
With savage grief
and perpetual scars

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Haunted Boat

Living on a boat
Haunted by the winds
Spectres and shadows
Of great times unfolded

Walking down a road
Where little stones bring
The tears of widows
To the past deported

Have I not lost
The path of my illusions
Have I not crossed
The stairs of retribution

Let the flowers grow
On that grave of stone
Let the river flow
Over the dead bones

And hide forever more
A past to be unspoken

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