Guardian Angel

Science bent my faithful lens to doubt The disclosure of the mystic (Anything that comes out his mouth Violates what is pragmatic) Until my lens is corrected By almost drowning in the sea On a large boulder Judas pushed Me to what I did not agree By not sinking in depth of death After being hit by big fruits On the head and near out of breath In death for my soul someone loots By near striking a buffalo On the road by my motorbike The rain mists on my helmet grew Brake! The road wiggled or the spike? As I go by the bamboo grass Its leaves start to sway and rustle As though the wind is there to pass From the thrust of guardian angel