Who are you? I will probably never know.
Your words are decorating my bending soul.
In silent mornings when I drink my aromatic coffee
Reality disappears, and hypnosis unfolds.
Who are you? The longing that knows my heartache,
Words that I used to believe so easily?
A mute Self, between much white and much black,
Looking constantly for himself in the gloomy parade?
Who are you? You are the world's greatest discovery
Who learnes all about the soul's immortality?
Who sees ice and fire in two distinct colours
And silence speaks to you in tremendous words?
Who are you? A soul with congestion of lava
Who can erupt anytime, leaving behind just waste?
Or a heart pulsing, passing through conversion
And hides his feelings through lyrics and prose?
Who are you? Are you heaven's demonic angel
Who lives and has the courage to shout in the silence,
Who often plays serenades through written poems,
Through mute words, non-words with the gates closed?
Who are you? The one who thinks white will turn gray?
The one who hopes one day black can become white?
Try to see in the fog more colours of your life,
Don't care about time, dual space or duration.
14.01.2018 London
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 2:22 PM UTC
Who are you? I will probably never know.
Your words are decorating my bending soul.
In silent mornings when I drink my aromatic coffee
Reality disappears, and hypnosis unfolds.
Who are you? The longing that knows my heartache,
Words that I used to believe so easily?
A mute Self, between much white and much black,
Looking constantly for himself in the gloomy parade?
Who are you? You are the world's greatest discovery
Who learnes all about the soul's immortality?
Who sees ice and fire in two distinct colours
And silence speaks to you in tremendous words?
Who are you? A soul with congestion of lava
Who can erupt anytime, leaving behind just waste?
Or a heart pulsing, passing through conversion
And hides his feelings through lyrics and prose?
Who are you? Are you heaven's demonic angel
Who lives and has the courage to shout in the silence,
Who often plays serenades through written poems,
Through mute words, non-words with the gates closed?
Who are you? The one who thinks white will turn gray?
The one who hopes one day black can become white?
Try to see in the fog more colours of your life,
Don't care about time, dual space or duration.
14.01.2018 London
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