How far will you go?
The birds are clapping their wings, rain will not come
The sky is moistened with clouds, the storm is stopping
Wherever you go, birds will fly on their wings.

Have a look at the window, it never glows
Have a look at the flower, it never flushes in rage
Your shadows bark at you, where will you go?

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I think who I am
What I am here for in this wonderland
What is there between you and me
Wherefrom we have come to this circle of reason
I think what you are to me
And why I have been thrown into this orb of wilderness
I do not know what why I am in quest of a cosmic soul
What are you to play the rule of the game
You ask your knowledge what you cannot think
As I ask my conscience how to reach beyond the consequence
We do not know what is to be and what is not to be
We do not know ourselves as we think we are strangers
As if we are strangers to one and all wandering
We all wander suffering the pains of existence all alone
You never know when my wandering thoughts will cast spell over you
Our thoughts flow like torrential rains knowing no bounds
Still we do not know what to think aloud and wordless
Wordless thoughts we speak aloud when we do not know what to do
Still we think and there be, thoughts we die and there be
We think, therefore we exist and there be.

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As if
Not far from the night
As if the days are no longer the days
Life touches the length of the axial sky
Marginally deviating from the circumference of existence
Swerving in a closer circle of perambulating dreams
Blues of time revolve with a twang of bowing arrows
Occasionally touching the skin of the corpse of ancient sighs
The grasshopper leaves no shadows as usual
As usual the streetcar marches on chasing quivering sound of tolling bell
All desires metamorphosing into nothingness of melancholy
All orbital hopes briefly stopping at the holy grail
As if to breathe life from a point of no return
As if life has come a full circle at the end of a long quest
The colour of days and nights fading in solemn delight
The cry of the ever rising dawn reverberating in sultry silence
The man born into the season of hungry autumn begs no mercy
Saying nothing evenly to propagate the laws of circumstances
As if the happening moments are destined to happen so circumstantially.

As if this is life of all consequences
All twists and turns exiting in a closer circle
As if life begets days after nights but no season of all rains or sunshine.

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O, the birds of the sky
O, forest-dwelling sage of the north
Give us wisdom, give us the knowledge of the breadth of the sky
We will chase the depth of the ocean with our shadows falling back
We have never sucked the honey-comb, we are nolonger the evangelical
We have never kissed the feet of withering rays of the twilight
Give us a chance to feel the chill of death before life
Together we we will dance to the tune of satanic verses
Before praying on our last pyre, give us wisdom of days and nights.

O, the charisma of the old world
O, the saviours of the retracting sun
The light is still burning the surrounding darkness
When the apocalypse will be revealed to all
When the Magus of the East will burn the fire of wisdom
We are the smaller beings of God's forsaken children
We will again be reborn at His behest.

We pray to Thee with folded arms, O The Omniscient
We will see the face of our destiny all the way to heavenly bliss
When there will be no more sighs of silence
And no more whispers of holy violence
Together we will spread our wings beyond the yonder sky.
We will partake the milk and honey of truth and beauty
Give us wisdom, more wisdom, O The Omniscient of all eternity.

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Pool of blue blood floating in shadows
Raging red clouds whispering nothing
Some people have gone to lighten the fire of pyre
The seasons have changed their long guises
Violence has breathed a sigh of relief
Nobody has left home to gather briefs of moments
Will the sky withdraw to God's solace?

The pyre of life is burning afire
Eternal time seeks no revenge
Language of worship feels the void of nature
Sinister motives will never be exhumed in time.

The sinners have prayed for the last time
For the last time they have kissed the dust
And they are no more smelling the flowers.
Everything seems to be expecting another apocalypse
Another revelation will bring back the lost glory
Ages of fateful saga reverberating in pontificating images
All roads lead to the shrine of salvation.

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Far from the depths of night
Whispering days shouting in fear of darkness
Lengthening shadows of a quivering man lying all alone
As void as an orbital circle of no return
Begging mercy in voices of no cheers and tears
The man standing in a world of nothingness
As if no breath to expire for eternity
Still the guiseless man seeking no solace
From the very beneath of his soulless shadows
A tearing silence breaking asunder all the while
The emptiness of the surrounding chasing him
Chasing him like piercing arrows in muffled voices
His days and nights echoing only the lapses of moments
As if no more pangs of faith dropping dead
In humane beliefs from the ancint empire of weal and woes
No more sounds of existing conscience widening
Nor carrying the corpses of the man's dying soliloquy
As if the man twice dead among the burgeoning woods...
Who is the man drowning himself in his own shadows
Who is the man staring vacantly in disbelief
Is it me who has emptied himself of all burdens
Is it me who has buried his treasury of angst of truth?
Still the man breathing in his shallow depth
As if the world has emptied his silence on the grave.

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