Weighed tons as I walked stuck with it, the glue.
It was dyed blue, I must be well but can anyone cure this chronic flu?
No medicine there to fill that void like affection do.
I want to break the cycle of having no clue,
From this stuck pattern, turning it into geranium from that past navy blue.

I walked through many paths,
Hoping that I'd end up with what I wanted to get,
Like a cat running after a rotten rat,
While fate gave its biggest laugh, watching me from above as it sat.

I found myself in the same doorway,
Even after a million decisions and decades worth of actions,
So scared to step in that hallway,
I turned my back on it and walked against the day.

The thickest wall built on earth,
Giving up against the fear of being third,
Perhaps I'm just setting a dam against my destined mirth,
An already written holy fate is dragging me toward a rebirth.

That insistent path could be my saviour, for certain.
I guess it's time for me to change the weather,
And perhaps it's time for me to open new gates, open my eyes or just open the curtains.
I guess I just wanted to hold onto that one I need to burn, that decade old wormy letter.

Locking every door and throwing away the key,
Was all along the necessity for one to be-
Able to bud in the new beginnings in which one needs to be.
That lost one who found a new hive after flying for 40 days, a honeybee
Loyalty, resignation, embracing, and acceptance all are for that holy & aware entity.

Confusions flooding in, even semantics doesn't have a clue,
Rising complexities, guardian angels don't know what to do,
After a thousand knots, now into the light I see.
Planting new perspectives hoping they'll reach the edge of the galaxy.

Built as a broadcast delay, I could touch the tension in those stares,
When I found myself being -once again- late.
No warning signs exist against the struggle to radicate,
For once, thought printing machine of mine had better not create a bait.

I still believe in euphoria,
Just like I believed in you, for ya.
I was making love with your idea,
With bursting passion, a complete aria.

Healing takes time, they say.
Now it is high time I went on with this day:
Finally being present, taking time to smell the leaves of bay,
I dare say, the infinite maze finally paid.

He walks alone, the path unsure,
Yet sees beyond the present lure.
With eyes that pierce the veils of mist,
He speaks of truths the world has missed.

Clad not in robes, but thought and air,
He heeds no crowd, nor seeks their care.
A whisperer of winds and time,
He answers not to man nor clime.

They mock his gait, they jeer, they laugh—
Yet drink his words by quartered draught.
He is the stone the builders spurned,
Yet in his silence, worlds are turned.