Retour

Martins da Mota Fernando

Ravens

 


Ravens in the grey sky turning black                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Cold isolation thought of unexperienced                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Feelings and sensations                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Nothing is fulfilling                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      For nothing can be                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Nothing but the urge to write                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Nothing but what remains when all’s gone – the omen                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        – the Black Flower for she is ever reliable                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Always there in the most obscure corner                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Of your heart – the valley no one ever ventured into                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Dancing amidst the fire of truth and pain                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     For it is all that remains resisting time and decay                                                                               

 

 




Envoyé: 15:37 Thu, 14 February 2019 par: Martins da Mota Fernando