valao, 30 november 2011
Step.
Another one.
Loosing
or winning.
Breath.
Another one.
Dying
or living.
It`s all about the tin red line.
Bleeding. Forgotten and lost.
The truth that lies in a glass of wine.
And the letter in the post...
Whisper
or silence.
Where
is the difference?
Strong
or weak
but everyone
dies.
And then - in that second
When your heart starts and ends its final beat.
There you see all. You see what you did.
And you see it as clear as ice.
And you can not repair the pieces
scattered like glass.
You see all your mistakes
and how you could have fixed them.
And then you see the eyes of Death.
It comes closer and you feel its breath.
And you should make the choice
- up or down, you run or stay...
Will you follow, will you pray?
A single step.
A single beat.
We are all scared
when the moment hits.
Step.
Another one.
Loosing
or winning.
Breath.
Another one.
Your heart
is now weaping....
valao, 30 november 2011
The rain has fallen long ago
Now streets are dry and dusty.
The fire in the fireplace has turned to ashes
that fall around like snow.
The eyes are closed, all lips are sealed
and no word, no whisper you can hear.
There`s no flowers and no animals
And even colors disappeared.
Silence.
All around the town.
You can even hear your heartbeat.
No picture. Not a sound.
And then a scream
or howl or cry of raven
sounds everything.
But just for second.Then it dims.
I`d leave this ghosttown quietly
so I can remain unknown
to the people and the life
that is still here hidden, still unborn.
valao, 30 november 2011
It turns. Rotates. It burns. And shakes.
I can see a window blurred by pouring rain
The steps I hear - they echo
they fill my head with pain.
Will it ever stop?
A circle doomed
No-end road
Darkness without end...
And then again - awake - i have to go
To go ahead.
No time to think.
I have no choice
I have no mind
Can`t hear my voice
The wind`s too loud,
The fire - never stops
And the stranger with the huge hat
would bow down
would leave the town
as i will too.
And as I leave
One thing i leave behind -
a perfect memory
of glass and light and tender sounds
- the soothing touch of rain again
and the cold metal of the gate.
It`s so gray and dark and quiet now
In the hour before the break of day
when i cannot stay
I feel someone watches
Someone else`s life will break
as he stands above to see me go
keeping all his senses wide awake.
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