The curtain falls, some traces left still wet.
The past will judge us once again
during our careless courses.
The end is near, the end is far,
as time is regressing among our smiles.
The book is old with pages stuck together,
a history that condemns us to remember.
The end is near, the end is far
like a summit we try to reach
like the hurricane we try to escape.
Our past is ticking its last breaths,
until the night disappears
and a new day arrives.
The moment we won't need the lights anymore,
with prayers loud and hopes liberated,
only the sun will warm our paths
for the new era, the new self to come.
Copyright © valeria iliadou