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The Rainbow

Nothing, almost nothing remains after time decides;
No spring, no fall, no waiting under the waning moon,
No desire before the setting sun, but the mad tides.
We smile, we stand so much in courage every time;
We will look at the floating clouds and whisper soon,
We are here to breathe, and here always to rhyme.

The rainbow that our soul seeks will appear again,
There will be the sun and at a distance it will rain.
Rose to rose will whisper what love shines again.
Among those words in hunger, there will be rhyme
For an incessant, unheard thirst of this souls’ pain.
We shall meet again and tell the story of our life.
We shall kiss under the rainbow and more bargain.

Time repeats and tosses what we thought will live
Till it finds enough ground for our souls to give.
Love will stand through those tides and not flicker,
And declare the time where the rainbow is forever.

A Prayer for You!

The Soul's Whisper

If time was to settle or pause among the pristine powers,
A flute is enough to play and save through the breathing rocks.
What is madness, if can’t converse with the countable stars?
What air is of profit if doesn’t hold the soul that death mocks?

The treasure of our times will be those smiles that we record.
The pursuit of our passion if not inspire, then to what respite?
Awake! Here it stands stronger than we know anything else.
Listen! To This voice of yours that echoes love our heart tells.

Sometimes, it’s among those tired leaves where love wrote.
Sometimes, it’s among a thousand waves where soul floats.
What profit is our rhyme here, if not toss our ego for light.
A step, a breath, a story that awaits you on the bed this night.

Awake! Yet again, you will starve and feed, drink the thirst.
But Oh…

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If time was to settle or pause among the pristine powers,
A flute is enough to play and save through the breathing rocks.
What is madness, if can’t converse with the countable stars?
What air is of profit if doesn’t hold the soul that death mocks?

The treasure of our times will be those smiles that we record.
The pursuit of our passion if not inspire, then to what respite?
Awake! Here it stands stronger than we know anything else.
Listen! To This voice of yours that echoes love our heart tells.

Sometimes, it’s among those tired leaves where love wrote.
Sometimes, it’s among a thousand waves where soul floats.
What profit is our rhyme here, if not toss our ego for light.
A step, a breath, a story that awaits you on the bed this night.

Awake! Yet again, you will starve and feed, drink the thirst.
But Oh, never give up on those dreams that live in your heart.

Met an old potter today after crossing the forest;
Old enough to lift the clay that was seeing him
For a long time, with water turned vapour now
And holding still to the air that touched it long ago.
And he greets me saying ‘here comes the mad man,
Here comes the one who couldn’t water the clay’.

Only the heart knows the dream it lives and loves,
Amid springs and falls that the river breathes.
Such emptied souls that multiply more emptiness
Such unflinching evenings and darkness around.
The potter, the wheel, the clay and the aged art
All will now shape this soul for sure salvation.

The decadence of those smiles will lure the obscure;
And the mad man will walk to find again the same clay.

Hold this finger and lead me Oh Time
To that epitome of an unending love.
I will drop every wish that this being
Is burdened while walking over the grass
And tossing among leaves green to brown;
Every lip that lied to see their eyes turn gold,
Every hand that prayed to save its soul so cold.
Balance is a myth, justice rebels against its judge.

If I can stand, I will forever love and paint
The moment the soul longs, and to weave
Through the rivers, the dream for the ocean.
I will someday then reach that island of love,
Come to the shore, throw a pebble with smile
To send ripples to your heart, no matter how far.
It’s blessed to be mad than in reason die unknown.

We will when the time is gone, stand like rock
Among these tides to love more and live forever.

The Voice of Life

Among these sun-filled eyes and dust kissed lips
There’s a tale of a tempest that madness whips.
Hand to hand trusts too with a heart holding love
While there are scattered visions of unending hope.
Among these decrepit steps of this temple of faith
We will not gaze deep into the sculptures of science,
But more at the art rising in the distant horizon.

There stand these visions we had like our fathers
Of all generations who hold their child’s finger
To lead through, to greet all and to bid farewell
When done enough with time and tests of life.
Faith is a great magic, holds the breath of ours
When in need and let go when we are set to sail.
Time echoes, the time we live forever and ever.

In Hope, we Live!

Petals of roses, petals of crimson hues so ancient
Laid now on these solemn words of this world.
Was I in a dream, or was I well treading through
The feathers and tossed among the wings of angels?
There are now stones thrown on paltry sculptures
And fear reaming through the veins of that victory.
What was the dream? What was the dream?
Shouted the old man on the same crossroad.
If we can pause, if we can breathe the same air
we started our journey, and touch of the breeze.

We fake to whom if not the soul, to gather hope
To face the truth of that dream we love so much.
Our journey can’t be an epitaph over that stone
If not the honest air among the moonlit nights.
Settle O’ soul, there’s so much peace in passion;
There’s the possibility of life when we are gone.
I will write again, take hues from those petals
And hymn though the marble into the sculpture.

Hope is in those eyes that surround us all through.
We will rise again to peace and fall again in love.