I didn't not see the shadow,
Nor the silhouette of your soul,
But a wavy shade,
Of your heart,
Smiling and tearing
Strings of my own,
That strummed for you,
Toying with their elasticity,
The acoustics of divorce,
Casting a dying passion,
When we played boy and girl
Into a happy never after

So I prayed today
At the altar under a roof,
Standing, a rusty but rugged cross,
On a peak, towards the sky

The candles fared,
Wavy flames danced with my own shadow
On dusty stone walls and aged furniture,
As silence masked the night

The midnight hour,
Transitioning into a future,
A present,
Dragging in a past,

These dreams of rue
Incorporated in a self,
To be buried in tears,
And left longing, for an escapade

The falling threads of her hair
Dark and satin,
In the yellow light of a dying candle,
Brushing lightly the wrinkles of my face,
At the temples, before the moon,
When she hung peaceful in my feeble arms,
Sharing a fatherly embrace

I slide my legs between the sheets,
feel the tender touch of warm cotton,
on my cold skin,  that my eyes close,
into a darkness, into a wonderland,
to catch the morrow
a Breaking Dawn,  dancing,
within the swords of the arena

“No,” he said,
“I want to see how you roll yours eyes when turned on,”
“Biting your lips and your voice smoother than the dust of falling snow,
Screaming within a peaking ecstasy.”
“To see your soul in the white of your eyes,
And your heart in the brown lenses within.”
“Pounding to the thrusting movement between your thighs,
But gentle, to raise your spirit,
Into the sky of dreamers…”

and even though am convinced within,
that am right and tempted to believe,
that am wise and lured to judged,
I lean on the counsel of the old,
the Socratic words from Greece,
a Confucius text from China,
and heed the advise of the guardians,
from the stars and their shadows,
listening to beat of my heart