With that halo mystery, halo, source of uncertain. Atavistic indifference as fury, disguise of the old days. Those, where I pretended to build an empire supported by illusion at the foot of an ocean.
And blindfolded, naive thinking, which did not let us understand that it was desert sand. A circle cordoned off by waters that would flood life, something incapable of resisting the passing of the years and what was to come, facts, unsuspected moments behind a stage with the sky over his shoulder and his heavy weeping calm.
Drowned in his own dream, burning inside to burn later. With the suffering cry of a sleeping voice, among the labyrinthine chorus of thought. Hidden from himself, while he was consumed by time, nothing sadder than the mutism of a dawn that refuses between infinite steps that will be memory, delayed steps, that make it impossible to walk between bitter traces.
Music of the forgotten in the nameless confines where the blues of genius is trapped. It was of stone heart, pain in a thousand pieces of a broken history on a perforated wood and the withered, rusty, mute drone, melody of the heroes who sacrifice themselves to be heard.
And that night that covers me with its veil traps the shadows of the past with its blades driven by desire, strange sounds of madness, the beat of an unfinished rhythm.
"There is always something to lose when the stakes are high and the sylph mouth orders the muse not to return..."
Memories that move the steps in disarray by the concave opacity that leads to itself, between arms of gloom and moonlight flame, like a cursed shadow that did not let me be, what I could and was not, light in the shadow.
It will never be the new reality, you can't change the footprint on a cobblestone, witness of struggle, of what drags life towards nothingness. Still resounds the voice, Sun of darkness. And the creatures make way when they hear it, and the night with its mantle bends like a bow, ornament of its feat.
Because there she found her destiny, a soul left between boards and everywhere in the world she will continue to grieve with the sky tight to her back, a case where her desires were kept, desires to continue dreaming, between notes of Sun and cries of hope, with that halo mystery, halo, of a walker at the edge of the night waiting for the last concert.
END
