Sivun näyttöjä yhteensä

maanantai 9. tammikuuta 2012

Answer to a prophet entering the year of prophecies

Through the pain and pleasure of the doomed fire
I stand by asking the Eternal,
Ever-Returning Promise
where my knees entangle the Origo,
and the waisted Philosopher's vision;
there were crying children and mothers to be born,
thine is the Will, God and mine
Lost

Will I ever be happy,
will I ever be gone to the Heavens and sing the Paradise alive?
Such an amount is blissed that
deserts bleed, oceans rain dry for the sake of Destiny,
many men soldiers,
many women goddesses in golden armours,
and only the Angels on earth.

From the years of thousands of courses in a river
there never was another such,
Other name than yours,
to have me calling the Providence for help,
the Mercy appealing me senses.

Heavens and shooting stars stay lonely in the horizon
as I watch the Time prevail,
the Truth in C-minor or another note,
every eye-blink is a new star for the immense journey they call LIFE.