I love mysteries
but not just the type
printed in black ink
in binded books
I enjoy the mysteries
that contain a set of lost eyes
whose lips speak words
in a particular voice
whose ears always have earphones
whose mind drifts off
whose face of concentration
is something quite beautiful
I like that kind of mystery
whose laugh is unique
whose smile is a rarity
and has rarely spoken
we only speak with our eyes
exchanging wondrous stares.
The Mystery is....still a mystery...
So i slove what i can...the problems of man...
The Mystery is.... still a mystery...
So i love who I can...According to plan...
The mystery is still a mystery...
So what will i find...Inside my mind...
the answers to some...the questions of all...
Where do you run... Who do you call...
The blessings of life no mystery there...
Just Call out his name for he is everywhere...
The Mystery is whats taking so long...
Let him into your heart thats where he belongs...
You were a mystery
You still are
The secrets you had
The silence in your eyes
You always were happy
Or so everyone thought
Until one day
You never went home.
Nobody ever sees
How deep sadness can be
Until one day
Becomes the last day
And everyone thinks it is just another day
Until the next one comes
Filled with pain
And a wrecked home.
Tears are spilled
By people who care,
But do they?
But did they?
Because, someone who cares...
Musn´t he know?
if you were to halt me in a street and ask
what defines a mystery? i'd have no trouble
in dropping equivalents, metonyms:
a puzzle, conundrum, crux, enigma,
a commodity beyond human understanding.
but truthfully, impartially, justly
when i muse over the question alone
the webs of instinctual response can be brushed aside
replaced with an inherent yearning.
i seek to know why perfection spawned
so intangible in an age where, like the
illegible scrawl of a faceless war leader,
each detail is immortalised
in a pixel, a photon, a sound wave.
you and i, we're not acquainted in the flesh
but the mystery continues, of how a translation
of your features on a screen can captivate me,
can steal into my heart and run away with my breath.
i would swear of your existence on the stars,
take a cosmic oath.
but how am i to know, with you there and me here?
prove yourself to me, please
to be more than an empyrean deception
Your eyes drink of me,
Love makes them shine,
Your eyes that lean
So close to mine.
We have long been lovers,
We know the range
Of each other’s moods
And how they change;
But when we look
At each other so
Then we feel
How little we know;
The spirit eludes us,
Timid and free —
Can I ever know you
Or you know me?