Like a chant written by the angels
Is a storm set on a lake of silver and gold
So many stories to tell
Oh, and the glories to unfold
No matter what may come or go
A meadow I thought I saw in a dream
A dream or wish, would I know?
Or will it strike me in the wondrous seems
In the frightening abyss of the unknown
The wind, almost like a note filled song
A messenger from the heavenly creator
As I read my request in a silent whisper
Would it matter if the answer came now or later?
Life’s meaning becomes clear when you are sure that it is fate that drives your soul
A fate never changing, never ending, never doubting
Is a fate that makes even the bravest of warriors fall?
And bask in the solemn delight given by angels, and devoured by men of stature
And now in the days of love and purity
Which by no meaning are days of sorrow
Shall you find your fate in careless dreams?
And in the enemies of tomorrow
Fate and faith are all alike
In the distant layers of the horizon
All of same origin
But not of the same light
But bonded in painted colours
The colours of the soul
Are the colours that are tinted and scarred
Many are chosen by few are called
Some are made, and others just are
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
Like a chant written by the angels
Is a storm set on a lake of silver and gold
So many stories to tell
Oh, and the glories to unfold
No matter what may come or go
A meadow I thought I saw in a dream
A dream or wish, would I know?
Or will it strike me in the wondrous seems
In the frightening abyss of the unknown
The wind, almost like a note filled song
A messenger from the heavenly creator
As I read my request in a silent whisper
Would it matter if the answer came now or later?
Life’s meaning becomes clear when you are sure that it is fate that drives your soul
A fate never changing, never ending, never doubting
Is a fate that makes even the bravest of warriors fall?
And bask in the solemn delight given by angels, and devoured by men of stature
And now in the days of love and purity
Which by no meaning are days of sorrow
Shall you find your fate in careless dreams?
And in the enemies of tomorrow
Fate and faith are all alike
In the distant layers of the horizon
All of same origin
But not of the same light
But bonded in painted colours
The colours of the soul
Are the colours that are tinted and scarred
Many are chosen by few are called
Some are made, and others just are
