Bound for the void of nothingness a ship had once set sail
Embarked in peaceful doubts and willful ignorance
Merely lead by a play, both boisterous and frail
A play of waves, of storms, a dance!

Yet with time the sea's bounty became a teacher
Testifying the bleeding which is her love
It is still there she sails, a ship at open sea
As long as in the darkest night there'll be some stars above

And all I heard was time's soliloquy
That truce of answers yet the will to fight
An act of echoes, scene of enmity

All time is, is a stage for history
So, rest soul, in the knowledge that all is right
And all I heard was time's soliloquy

A player dressed in flowers came to me
In a golden splendour with rays of  light
An act of echoes, scene of enmity

Hence second came, costumed abundantly,
The gaudy herald of the stagely night
And all I heard was time's soliloquy

An actor in white attire blinded me
With eyes so dark that they would shame the light
An act of echoes, scene of enmity

Life flows where it can't go, till it be free
And bloomed at the play's end, ne'er seen so bright
And all I heard was time's soliloquy
An act of echoes, scene of enmity

His soul called upon him to go astray
And there learned to love and bear empathy
Therefore in that intention he pursued his way
The way of art, the road of dreams, the beauty of poetry

It will be there that he shall meet me soon
As I will walk with him until the path is almost gone
And pluck the silver apples of the moon
And the golden apples of the sun

An illusion had sprung out of a well
And from the very same we all quench our thirst
In years it has already made many dwell
And I, in chasing this illusion, will not have been the first

It was blinding in all the light I didn't see
Until I learned how misfortune had treated me right
That illusion had been cloaked by invisibility
And vanished when I returned to sight

Having laid myself to rest, I could not get myself to sleep, nor could I entrust my own mind to dreaming. 
Laying there, an empty head on a lifeless pillow, I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling besides the things he had constructed. Carefully picking up the remnants of a sanctified artwork, shattered about the room, he turned towards me. Piercing eyes in a frame drowned in nostalgia.
I saw the fallen poet battering his quill, tired of his incessant fight. The hideous phantasm of a man-made oracle. 
All fought, their arms tied to their devotion, their armour fastened to their solitude
And only I could keep them company

I shall arise and raise a glass
To writhing verse and broken prayer
And pass through minutes of neglect  
I hoped I’d find you there

The hazel wood is rich with fairies  
The Sirens move through dappled grass
Fervidly chased by child or lover
And I shall rise and watch them pass

Long were my days when the summer came
But the fishermen bade me beware
Dark as red wine was the sea that I sailed
I just prayed that I might find you there

For the ocean was dressed in its fancy
Of sea nymphs and monsters of glass
Often fought by hero and wizard
O I hoped that you might let them pass

Well, in all of this rumour and roaring
I had cast my soul to the sea
And passed through neglect and high fancy
And hoped that there you’d find me

I wanted to bring order to the archive in my head
There I found a paper gravely wrinkled
Forgotten and unread

Long have I denied and altered its appearance
And kept it orderly away from sincere reality
But the unread became known with all its clearance
When the world on the paper opened up in front of me

And the blinding light that paper carried out
Struck me with indefinable surreality
A world that was neither glorious nor proud
But still a part of the archive inside of me

The heart is fond, so is the hand
That fed this fickle flesh of mine
That fell and bowed and loved and vowed
That lost and loved her shrine  

That self same shrine where once, I know
The Mirrors followed free
And all who prayed for rights divine
Were wronged as wronged can be

The promised land came to the dreams
And sang a song or two
But fled along when winter came
To a land where summer grew

The pilgrims, they through night and day
Still worship never ending
And like beggars fled when distance came
When death and life carme pending

For death and life the emperor fought
The promised land claimed he
And of steel and fire were his spurs  
His horses of the sea

“The earth’s ablaze!” I heard them cry
I heard their maddening shrieks
The hollow madness of their eyes
Fell down all to their cheeks

“Arise, arise” I heard them cry
The dignity dropped down
The emperor there stood shamefully
Amidst a smouldering town

For in these hands, the promised land
Was crushed and so was he
And with the horses and his pride
Sank down into the sea

And deep among the waves a song
Rose up for every soul
That was promised to the broken hearted
That was promised to us all

And brick by brick and stone by stone
The marble statues filled
The halls of gold, the hollow crown
Where once a king we killed

“Arise! Arise!” I heard them cry 

I saw their limbs like mould 

The glazing in each weary eye 

Of brightest emerald. 


Their temples stood rebuilt for good
The Mirrors followed free
The shrine was loved forevermore
And lost to that sad sea 


Well I limped on to beat and drum
Limped on like one forlorn
And I shall wake only to break
The silence of the morn

Through the land the myth’s own hand
There wrote its own account
The old man and the sea were found
Down by the promised land

I have been a lone wanderer for many a year
When the land was thirsty and the well was dry
Long have I roamed through solitude and tears
But the sun dried those tears as time went by

For even the lillies in their fair embroidered wear
Are as blessed as the certainty that the sun will rise each day
Should I then, the wanderer in despair
Not be blessed with an embroidered coat along my way

I've made a world from fields and flowers
And head the unforgiving call
Behold the tears that found their rest
Behold the love that found a soul

I know the tunes, I've played them all
I've torn the violin apart
The song it died, I watched it fall
Between the centuries of the heart

Yet the world I loved seemed sweeter still
The light was garish, the dark was gay
I played the fool, I played with fire
And let the ashes steal away

I passed the watchman on his tower
He rests and sighs and rests and fears
He watches every passing hour
For very soon the morning nears

And as I stood, the time stood still
He bows his head, he sighs and prays
"Such was the longing that was mine
Such were the authors of my days"

I taught the weeping willow how to cry
To see in himself that he felt forsaken
And seeing sadness, I felt the sympathy to try
And reached my hand, although it be not taken

Rooted in a ground of incomprehension
That deprived him of a willows vivacity
And darkened his brightest heaven of invention
And emptiness became his daily  melody

As for his loneliness  he took my hand
And as for comfort, I gave him mine
And placed his roots again on fertile land
I taught the weeping willow how tears can entertwine