Monday, September 25, 2006


I feel the pain of your silence
that knows nothing of distance
argues with its being
and swallows its fountainhead.

Time dies in your eyes.
You send it in a burning ship
envying its finality
once the glory of fire expires
and white ashes become
part of the passing world.

Still yet I feel your darkness
silent agony never voiced
eye-light turned down another notch
no flinching to notice
only something cold
crawling on my skin
a death touch fleeing acceptance
while a warrior cleans his sword
and sees not the sun setting.

(High Tide, Moon Ride)


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