You and I, You and I – Are heroes who are misaligned With countries, guilty of restraint With folks, born under quite a different reign
With foreign thought repertoires That couple monolingual stars; With fledged serenading creatures Behind shut windows of indifferent teachers,
And alien, dry air in one’s chest, Deserting lungs after the heart had been undressed. Yet for a brief period of time Whilst a busker performed for a dime
There was a pact between jet setters: To roam the Roman soil no matter What it takes, for it has been professed That we embark on this exhilarating quest.
As much a blessing as it is curse, It has no expiration date, unlike this verse. Dear designer of a multi-universe! Please make, at last, a place come forth
Where writers, both rereading Keats, Could start a revolution on your paper sheets Would you allow? Might never know, because for now...
...You and I, you and I Are festive effigies they call their shrine. Rising above confetti-covered streets, We regenerate to liberating pagan beats.
Who knows, perhaps, this self-repeating theme Is, indeed, a dream within a dream; Perhaps.. The nightly waves after demise Are morning rays that make up the sunrise.