Sunday, February 13, 2011

Immaculate warrior, you always die


If ignorance could be beauty what pretty souls we would be?
Like the sleeping mountains
we shall marvel as mutes,
and be ragging deaf
as the shunned wild skies.
Like a feather from a fleeing crow
we would fly,
and sparkle like a fish,
that just died.
Like the tempting Sun in vain,
that will never collect the drops of rain;
we'll be mad waves searching for land,
just because we always crave.
The Gods have proclaimed we always say,
but to look around we always forget.
To ride a starving horse is not a must,
because you are a warrior who is soon to be dust.

No comments:

Post a Comment