Posts Tagged ‘inspire’

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.


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Until there is a wind that has touched
The sea, the oak, the leaves of a forest
So green with hues of spring or yellow
Of an autumn morning, you will not settle,
You will not succumb among pastoral hymns.
You will but fly beyond, for the light is life.
You are not heavy like our hearts, or tricks
Traverse you in torn down robes of past.  

It’s easy not to untangle your journey,
For you have travelled through history,
Through the meandering moon-lit stream
Of love, of hope, of despair and glory.
Wish my soul could join you and dream
Through the pages filled by your story,
And stand near the swans again for peace.
Like my masters say to pick you is to speak
To an unending sky that has enough air.
The feather so light, so untouched, unheard,
Can guide me to my stars and my prayer.

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Come from the blue sea after the bath,
Greeting the Sun that is so ancient,
So strong after seeing time passing by,
And legends running half naked to death.

There is no meaning in these eluded beings,
Like seasons that follow feelings and sell
Intellect over and over for pennies to grow.
Leave these pagan paltered paths of hell.

There is a new morning waiting for long.
Let us hail and greet light and kill darkness
Of our mind, and our hearts so beautiful.
Like wings of the butterfly, let our thoughts
Inspire art and be blessed by the muses.
Let our anguish flow with tears in dark
And a pure sublime soul we be to walk.

Misery is moaning, so steal your breath
And save your beats to see more love.
There is a new morning waiting for long,
To show the road to render faith and hope.

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I stand now with the paradox of all times,
To be or not to be with measured minds,
Tattered clothes and less sold rhymes.
These men are like apparitions that move
Only in dark, ever pretending luminance.

The kings and queens are now in dreams;
The slaves pose to know more.
A malady so uncured stands and screams,
What profits the soul and more.
I will arise and go someday to the temple
Asking what mind intends and soul serves.

To have faith although is tough to test,
To render the verse is to inspire,
As this world will never listen to us.
There is joy in the game of fire,
But where will the flames rest?

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