Now more than ever, the river sounds like gold and your heart knows that the waiting was so worth it...
Pantomimes of deceiving events try to chain the way to touch the skies... Follow your dreams and you will find yourself...
The hobo grins... the rose blossoms... the mountain stands... and you... you... just want to thank... for all the gifts you were given...
It is more than a simple feeling... it is the confirmation... the sweet verification... like when you know, -even in the darkest hour-, it is about to dawn...
It is the truth, in the shape of thousands hesitations... it is the victory under the homage to so many defeats... it is the hope that, despite all the ordeals... all the unpleasant sighs... there is light all around...
And you, there... faithful and alone, persevere when others so long ago surrendered victims of cruel fears and the dictator ignorance...
Probably it is the end of the ritual... the sacred epitaph... the holy desperation... or... maybe... maybe... it is just the beginning... because everything is consumed by rush... because close to the rainbow, there is just peace... caresses from souls just like yours... once upon a time... victors over the wicked routines...
Somewhere it is your flag... made of ceaselessly melodies... eternal well-meant embraces... made of light and sunsets... of wonderful vigils... and loyal abysses...
The song says Goodbye... the road whispers illusions... the bells ring and you realize once more... that the only thing that you have is time... a Time that was always supposed to last until the right paragraph would be writen...
And the echo... like the remainder of the most important mission, comes like an appealing sinphony: "How much of it do we have?"
No comments:
Post a Comment