I stand here still and wonder,
Of a time I took a quill and my hand, stand still,
To make a dot in time,
To make the passage rhyme.
And every time I think of you
You are somewhere where no one knew,
You would be and make it true.
The loneliness of my knights keeps me away from different sights,
I only wander through the past and find pillars there are no fallen,
And I a bug upon this earth that wanders,
But is not yet swollen.
So many things to say,
To convey on white pixel paper.
So many hidden meanings in this play
Of rapid typing and as rapid thinking,
It’s only a fraction of a fraction,
That matters now.
I’m the poet the behemoth of feelings
Who shedding them into this post,
And only time will turn me into a ghost.
Every time someone wanders along the riff
In Tenerife, I splendidly surrender to their drift,
Cause I hadn’t left, with no surprise
With charming melody covering my eyes.
Now that I know,
That all is lost,
That end is near,
I do not succumb to nonsense fear.
I stroll in quite pace towards the grace of death itself,
I know I was not a Lord, a nobleman or even worthy
To hear out you confess,
But there is one thing I know for sure,
It is the truth of those who yet remain pure.
I know it’s so,
I know it is.
I know it with the go,
I know it with the breeze.
The red sea wants to devour my flesh,
But in return, I throw little shallots of a stone,
Into its depth.
Such is the life,
Such is the fraction of a fraction
Of my disguise.
Now I depart.
Without knowing ‘why’
Or ‘why’ I even had to start.