Poetae Opus

A purple meditation

No more tears,

I\'ll weep,

To conciliate my Destiny,

 

For my Scepter is not,

Made of glass;

 

No more rebukes,

I will attach,

To remind my Duty,

 

For my Evolution does not,

Reside on Hatred;

 

Fire never extinguishes fire,

And dirty water is never drunk up,

 

For no one is able to smell,

The blood of their failure;

 

I can only arise,

Between my laugh and my dance;

 

Life becomes hard when,

My own perceives so,

 

And Time is only an excuse,

To believe I\'m worthy;

 

Even following a constant routine is,

Willing to be seen,

As a temple within;

 

I cannot die again;

I cannot whisper another oath,

To feel the same blade;

 

The wound keeps bleeding,

If Roughness persists on,

 

And I wanna be ready,

To crush black petals,

On a red soil;

 

I\'m willing to awake,

A new dawn!

 

For my ears are already listening,

To the rise of a singing night!

 

Behold the mankind\'s eyes,

The Flame burns it all up,

For the Spirit is able,

To open up Hearts.