Whilst being weak and weary
it’s left for one to ponder.
Like visions in the dark night,
which one never can disclose.
Yet one’s heart tremble
is someone’s manifest.
Like a testament of ultimatums,
which will never be true.
Dare not speak the truth,
or it shall be buried.
Like the corpses floating down stream,
without being able to foresee what’s coming.
Be proud my love.
Yet do not deny your faith.
Even if it doesn’t include me.
Hold tight and never let go.
Whilst walking past shadowy lanes
and listening to that sweet murmur.
I’m not sure, not really.
A strike to the core which leaves me paralysed.
For all the world to see.
In this vast landscape of dreams and hopes,
where enemies cease to kill,
death is yet redundant.