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Posts Tagged ‘music’

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.

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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’.

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It’s winter and there is cold breeze through the leaves
Hidden in the fog like a myth that will uncover soon;
and bells ringing on temples of ancient gods whom I know,
and hymns filled in the walls of my ear that pray the moon.
Does it all change? Does the face of innocence still glow?

There are flowers of the night still lying on my earth;
There are feathers that tossed in glory and filled the sky.
It’s not a tale, it’s not a night gone by and hours so slow;
A cult of colossal war hymn silenced by love and loss
That echoes between two mountains and like river flow
Into the ocean of life, to be born again to die and cross.

Between ignorance and ego all battles are fought forever;
Between the clever minds, the heart succumbs and shiver
with attempts to admire its own tale of honest moments.
There plays the violin by the sea side, there plays the flute;
There dance is frozen like an iceberg, and an artist paints
Like colours are eternal on this canvas of time together.

If a war can end with words, I will write in love more;
Than take shields of sorrow or settle on the shore.
My verse isn’t vast, but will fill the emptied soul of yours,
When your reason leaves you like a phoenix of course.

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Sand and stone flakes join and move fast into the eyes of time.
There is much music, the same ancient air that touched the genius.
I will not talk about the empire of gold that is dead, doesn’t rhyme
To our today, nor will pass to coming times with reason or rehearse.
It’s the same waves that touch the land of immortal art, of infinite
Life that segues through the rocks, through the music cast on stone.

There are percussions of chiseled moments, there is a known gloom,
When you stand before the Chariot of Sun with seven white horses
With wings of life, so ready for the flight and spring of life to bloom.
Sculpted emotions on these stones like a bouquet of eternal roses
Stand through the time, to reach every soul, to guide every journey.

I stand not like a saint but with infant steps, trying to feel the stone,
Feel the flakes, the wind from the sea that fills my vision and my soul.
To hear aloud the songs of my countrymen, touch the fabric of our own.
Like love, art too stands free, only eyes change and feel they hold it all.
If I could stay witness forever and tell this story to all lives that live;
This light that burns our ignorance, and endures more love to give.

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Oh wind! Flattered with the trust I have built,
I stand like a monument of friendship;
Souls appear and go, some honest or in guilt,
The best words, the sweet air around leap
To discover the truth veiled for ages.

We will meet from here and like stranger
Not greet, nor gift but look at each other
With blank eyes, filled hearts and anger
For loving among so many lives longer.

What transcends is unseen but whisper
For apparitions they leave behind;
No joy is jealous of the sorrow spread
Under this canopy of conscious creed.
The temples will remain, the gods will,
The memories will fly like ash sprayed.

Into the dungeon of deprived let us push
All anguishes and love again for that we are.
We are farther than our time can prepare,
When we meet we will greet, we will be quiet.

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I will make way for you; I will arise and go,
Among countryside men and women;
I hear the symphony so silent, so pure.
What have I lost, and gained in this war?
I stand now with corpses here and there,
Scattered like vermillion on the floor.
I see the musician playing flute so soft,
And surreal strokes under the dead moon,
I see an old cavern with light from heaven.

I searched for gothic gods in this desert,
A woman and byzantine gold so embraced;
There is no oasis in these dreams but hurt
My heart with pain and long love laced.

A Sun as bright as if no need for a second,
A road so long as will turn a river full of tears.
I listened to the furls of the girdle so wild.
In winter this desert will be cold at night,
With no creatures but the serpent’s hiss.
I am unfolding this journey now or never,
To see what tomorrow unfolds in light.

After countless steps this journey doesn’t end,
But just changes its meaning now to mend
The woes of the soul, these occurrences so wild.
Let me stand for a while and pray my stars,
My God that has not lost hope in my tears,
And my chiselled fate from here to guide.
This odyssey will remain now on stones,
To guide all souls that has covered miles
Of agony, anguish and admired smiles.

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There are enough trumpets to blow
In this forlorn land of muses;
Enough lyrics stand idle to be sought
And ancient rhythms of melody flow.
There is no crowd of solitude here
And no wandering eyes moaning.
There is no dream here to come
And no thought to end with tear.

Emptied hearts and burdened souls
Now fill the curtains and not rise
From the trivial tests of fate.
I have seen a fiddler in the meadow
Now having stood for long to play
And journey with my eternal song.
And a pianist with shivering fingers
Beside the lake filled with Mozart,
Stands unheard among country tulips.

These are all but tinges of the last hope
That glimmers through autumn winds
And journeys through unpaved paths.
Let time heal all to make this great song.
This world is a great orchestra to witness;
A great symphony of undying faith binds
As I have to sing because am the song.

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