Fame After Death
It is assumed that fame
comes after death,
when nobody could imagine
how strong was the thirst
for the dawn's dew;
how solitude was found
to embrace it as a loyal friend!
Has life ever revealed itself,
and let you vaguely peak in:
to satisfy your curiosity or whim?
Visions can't turn into dreams that are blissful,
if the dreamer is not willing to share:
all words must fit into that image,
unless it turns out to be a mirage;
something that can be seen, but not touched!
Tales are transformed into reality,
heroes and heroines without fragility;
I have attempted to create that illusion of invincibility...
by allowing my imagination to wildly roam,
just to discover how it would feel to be admired!
What makes me remarkable...
is the unique talent to mimic others,
to make all my creations credible,
not competing with those whose work is incomparable,
appealing to the more mundane who love vicious lies!
Favored by the common people,
I am not the loud charlatan
or the delirious circus clown,
fitting in a somber novel,
I would write about to ridicule any individual!
Nostalgia don't be hesitate to return,
and make my sealed lips abruptly burn...
who can welcome my arrival, if they won't let me speak?
The notion of fame after death is totally false,
my expectation is not too obsessive to make me lose my endurance;
it is utterly inappropriate for me not to enjoy a victorious moment:
when tragedy can strike me and disrupt the idealistic shape of my concept!
I don't fight for the survival of a brilliant persona;
I only pursue humility and dignity to define what I teach,
not to justify the errors and the faults of my drama!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
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