Sunday, August 22, 2004


Darkness were there and nothing more,
your soul, within you, burning
let your heart be still a moment
Tell what is your lordly name
because the wind is whispering it again.

Less , less bright the stars shine
than the fire that burn you.
The moon tint is purple
like your blood,
and the blood that you have spilled.
She envy you,maybe,
or she cry for you.

Doubts and pain
come never again because to your whispers
your soul answer with other whispers
and cries of hate
and revenge.

And like the snake circle the tree
and suddenly bite
your poison circle the time
and condamned you at the dark
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