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Inked in Love

Sometimes our breath is the greatest song,
That ears will not hear, but the heart will lend.
Drops of our tear and smiles will more belong
To the dreams of life cast now on a stones end.
Lips smearing among the seduced air of this land
I often revoked and retired from thoughts of you.
But I stand an inch taller, an acre more green
Every time someone says it’s love and it’s true.

I know the nights, I live that dream, and I still play
The same flute among the cold wind and still play
To cross the clouds in the dark to say I love you!
Let peace find you and time leave you alone in grey
To mould into apparitions of our most innocent day
And night filled with stars say with smile, I love you.

What amateur beats in the heart of this holy fire?
Only feathers burn beleaguered in the prism of time.
The wind that shines with this shivering soul
Flies far to those distant memories and rhyme,
Restless, reared wretches of the ruptured goal.

What ink does this vein blow with so much hatred?
So much in itself, so much making moments mourn.

The Swans now sail among the whiteness of the moon,
Among the coldness of the calm uncounted morning.
What blindness has these generations brought so soon?
Our soul doesn’t hold the wealth we gathered in living.
There is this breath that goes so deep, so much making
The vision blurred and ears yearning to true love’s tune.

We are the immortals, only we know when we leave.
We are the smiles we see, we are all that we give.

The Moment

To be born is a mirror of the possibility to be reborn.
We conquer not cadence, but the silence of our soul
With unheard attempts of love among sails now so torn;
What legend shall these oaks sing, what wood to burn?
Among intrepid torrents of desolate wind there’s madness
Of the soul, there is passion in every passing vision.

We are the story we tell, we are the music we play;
We are not idols of cold stone, but a dream of clay
In every child’s soft hands who will be born again
Among journeying times, through the heat and rain.
We will meet again and will talk those moments lived;
The blue sky, green fields and the dreams we believed.

War or Peace

The Soul's Whisper

On a horse wild, burgundy and smart,
He travelled miles to catch.
Through cotton fields and the blue sky;
He followed the dragon’s shadow.
A vow that he spelt, the oath he lived
Had glimpses scattered of a martyr’s heart.

There were shepherds who saw him,
And Paths that have heard his horse’s hoof.
Somewhere when he stopped to see;
There were lives miserable than war.
Somewhere yet again there is a dream
To defeat the huge wings of misfortune.
Through the woods and the rivers,
Cutting the greenery apart like in verse;
There is a great truth to witness.

There is great peace, greater gain,
Not in war but in love again.

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The Prayer

 
What battle does this baffled baton lead
In these desolate hours for decrepit sailors’ oars?
The mutiny in a moment tests the greed
Of ours, of legends we know who still in course
Tussle their thirsty swords with ire indeed.
Let peace not preach any more, let the course
Break every intellect, to find the soul’s feed.
Live on hereafter with the same love and light,
Till our wings flutter and decide its true flight.

LOVE IS OUR SONG

The swans through leaves of this lotus lake
Sail to touch the moon in crystal cold water.
Child to child will ask what merry to make;
What flowers bloom in this daunted barter?
With reason we refute the satin we long sold,
The fabric of faith tossed in grey and gold.

Here comes the breeze, here lives the saint,
Among these fluttering wings that trust
The cold wind will make its hope sail more.
Why not alone tread these paths bent?
Why not jostle the breaths in the tour?
Why not clap among the crowd we know
By silver coated realms of the moon’s glow?

Among shadows there will be a vision burst
Into flecks of life on the distant divine shore.
When we meet will not talk the journey;
But each moment that we lived forever.
Time will seek answers that it knows for long
With filled words that hymn ‘love is our song’.

If you could listen

I stand on this rock and touch the wind.

Here’s a satin draped sculpture in this corner
Of the garden of greatness, cold and white
In marble looking through the tinted threads
Into the hustles of heralded humans murmur.
Seasons do not come and go, but we venture
Through the times wanting to see even more.
We choose to crawl, then walk and part away
To find the light in dark and search each other.

I stand on this rock and touch the wind.

A witness to the winter? The smell of spring?
The torrid tremors of times beaten into gold.
I wish this journey could find me everything,
I wish we never be born again nor grow old,
But stand on this rock and touch the wind.

It’s the wind that will live this love’s tale forever
It’s the rock that will breathe light, life and love.
It’s every beat of the heart that life will choose
To touch every smile on those cold marble lips.
Be the wind that touches you now, be the rock
That teaches you to get carved by time alone.

I stand on this rock and touch the wind.