Poetae Opus

Temple

On the stairs,

Of the altar,

I only see one Hope,

Rising up,

To an unmoving Wheel;

 

Behold,

Statues smile

At the unfaithful Clown,

 

For his grinning is not enough,

To shake the dust off his nose;

 

Behold,

Six candles illuminate

The Devotion,

Everyone wishes

To get,

 

And Silence pronounces a yellow whisper,

To open up devotees\' eyes,

And to make them look after

Their strongest science;

 

Meanwhile,

I\'m still sit right here,

And enjoying the company,

Of a purple breeze.