Are there any eyes that won’t burn
When it comes their turn
To be watchful throughout the sea of lies
To watch over a child that cries

Crying for the father that never returned
Or that rejected any stone turned
Will this children’s eyes burn
Because of the tears, or because it’s now their turn

Their turn to watch smoke paint the sky
Turn to watch the seas rise
Their time to watch their kind’s demise
Burn from watching other tearing eyes

Will the eyes of the wise be blinded?
When he has no more wisdom and has to be reminded
Will the eyes of mothers turn to ashes in the air
When they see the world they left is only more despair

Will a white dove cry
When it can’t see the sky
And its kin have turned grey
And there’s nothing we could say
To make them stay
So it’s now the turn to our eyes to burn and cry
For there are no doves in the sky

How can we miss what we never had

Do we miss it because we’ll live it so strongly
That it will reverberate throughout time
Backwards
And touch a dreamer today
About a Play yet to play

The Desire you desire
The understanding of loss and sorrow
You miss a kiss you never had
A dance and a chance you are yet to have
You miss a word you never heard
Missing a touch so much but you never felt it
Can’t you see
We are all waiting on a memory

Paintings must have a poetry for each eye
An escape for each truthful try
To evade what more scapes the dye
That paints a mind blind
That scrapes for single thought that is kind

Poems must paint a painting
For eyes that are fainting
Sore with the harsh and painful reality
Of feeling while fleeing
From thoughts that rush too fast

While walking and looking at the trees
With some leaves burned by the sun
Meshing with the green coloration
A single tree carrying the whole weight of a painting

But why can’t I see the marks of the brushing
Why can’t I see the warmth of the red leaves
Or the happiness in the spared green ones
Why can’t I see the beauty in it
Why this painting seems to scape life

The strangest feeling as I know,
In this tree I see most of what reality can be
Is the most my eyes can capture
Is the most my mind will shape anything
Ever

Yes it is life, and it is reality
But a cold one.
Or is it a burning one?
Seen by frozen eyes

To be honest
To be out in the storm
To feel it most sincerely
To experience it pure

To understand we do not know what is it
To understand we have our side of it
To understand we will not ever really
Understand it all

But to speak our light and let it shine
Even if not as well as we should do it
Even if distorted as a Lightning