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SONG
IN THE MIST
IN THE MIST
Still on the road, in life,
still wandering through the haze,
through the dust of poisons,
breathing despite it all.
In the melancholy of dust, that dust that still dreams,
in that list of desires,
desires that slip away,
even when they’re bound.
Dreams of the seas,
dreams of sleep,
dreams of living,
a little more.
Between the air,
between the dust,
the dust flies,
days drift away.
In the dusk,
in the blur,
in the weariness,
in the twilight.
Shaken being,
dragged heart,
heavy beats still.
In my distant world,
with the weary living,
dreams of the impossible,
dreams of miracles.
Until never in this life,
in that dust I became,
tears that blur everything,
delicate ripples of the turmoil,
when I can’t bear it anymore,
in the mist of life,
waiting for the light,
perhaps,
of those luminous days.
While I break,
a little each day,
in the soft pain,
of being alive,
of being dust
that walks,
in the dust.
IN THE MIST
IN THE MIST