Image
The dominating silence of time hurts,
that enters the confused hours,
and I don't know what I feel,
if I lack the tune of the wind,
in the voice of the moon, sweetly diffused.
A muffled whisper, a distant echo,
creeps on the breeze, its cold tear,
while the shadow, like a lover,
embraces me in the gloom, without melody.
Trapped in thoughts, in a wandering game.
Empty roads where the sun flickers,
leaves murmur secrets of yesteryear,
and as the compass turns, my soul sways,
searching the air for a new stranger,
to kindle love, to quench the battery.