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Poem

In the heart of the night, under the shining silver moon,
Shadows of lost time stretch in their waltz,
Carried by the cold wind that whispers forgotten promises,
Hopes and freedoms, captured in dreams of yore.
Colored leaves, leaves of bygone times,
Danced in my dream, seeking unknown rhymes,
Meeting the grass, everywhere, the grass of green hope,
But neither fate nor faith offers the core.
Trembling leaves, freely kissing the wind,
The postmodern Columbus swore to find the land,
Boundaries of freedom with the rustling of morning,
Shining heart, golden scissors in the nets of life.
Pretzels with caraway seeds, serenity passing,
The day of emerald, time coiling in a shell,
Memories from hell calling, birthing nightmares,
In the amber noon, cutting with old scissors.
Black stripes of tigers, the moon and the Prophet's beard,
Monks cannot endure, nor even the poet,
Walls of reality breaking, cold rationality,
Our hearts opening the realm, the mind to teach us.
The forest of humanity's guilty silence hidden,
Rusty ax from the east, disturbing the mind,
If love was true, why was freedom misunderstood,
Mocking saints, possible hate, birthing words.
Truths hunt us, thoughts surround us,
Feelings speaking of rare love and brutality,
Spirits, beasts, ghosts on the pale road of normality,
Gentle visage of family, city, mentality.
For once, let's not avoid the real facts,
Language, beliefs, culture, feelings, natural acts,
Life, our own reward and punishment,
Living in forests, self-exile, our wisdom.
In the silence of the night, under the full moon of revelations,
Drops in the infinite ocean of existence,
Ephemeral, yet eternal, fragile, yet strong,
Alone, yet connected, in a cosmic dance of destiny,
On the magical stage of life.

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