I
carry with me the fire
that
belongs to the place that we mourn.
Beyond
the love, beyond the lust
This
constant yell the bloodlust.
The
passion fed the restless soul
the
taste of the love poured in the chalice is
what
torments the inner artist
with
his devoted reverence for the most beautiful dream,
Dark and light
collided
oppositions that sealed the eternity
oppositions that sealed the eternity
and
worlds come closer with the touch of the fire.
The
muse is the passion
the mistress of your restless soul,
You are like an open book in which I find myself,
the mistress of your restless soul,
You are like an open book in which I find myself,
You,
the blood that keep my heart alive.
© Diana Mistera 2008
Letta ora... mi fa male la spalla, sono le 03.30 della notte (o del mattino) e non riesco a dormire dal dolore. Prezzo del mio disegnare. Che palle...
ReplyDeleteBella... e si, concordo con te... arriva da lontano =)
Anonima Notturna
eh si...ha una magia tutta sua...ben vengano certe epiffanie...e' bello essere la sua mano a volte...:)
ReplyDeleteP.S. anche io avevo dolore alla spalla ieri...mi sn addormentata tardi dopo aver sentito finalmente lo scricchilio delle mie ossa...strana coincidenza! :)