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Posts Tagged ‘magic’

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.

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Time is cruel that it doesn’t return
Nor does it feel when the heart breaks.
With leaves wandering among weeds
Seldom there is an echo that breaks.
We will not love again nor will dream;
The faith that grows like an oak
And falls from the tall beautiful cloak.

Somewhere near we will see again
The mundane eyes with tears filled.
And someone whispering in the ears,
All will but change so where does it end?
Then a soul will stand, another will follow.

The caverns of time will guide
And gentle breeze will heal.

The hoofs still beat and hunger stands
Alone on this strand deserted for long.
There is light and there is darkness.
There is an eternal war to face within.
There is peace in an unknown song,
When melodies flap and ever embrace
All monuments of race and empty hands.

Someday on this acre of green grass
With dew filled Tulips swinging
A soul will meet its soul and pass
The baton of love and care.
Then there is no anguish and pain,
No dream that is butchered,
No wish that enters dark wheels
And no moment that stands still.

Is that what we call death?
Is that the end of all desire?

Flame beside flame will make way
For this luminance that will stay.
All clouds will clap and move,
All stars will now fall in love.
From the furnace I have come
With no tattered piece in hand.
These eyes have closed long before
But the vision within still sees;
The flowers of childhood still fresh,
The fragrance that still echoes.
The robe is now clean and furls
The soul of mine to journey
Through these known woods of rose.

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