There will be a time
when the entire realm of freedom
will evaporate into the night.
Fire will rage through your land of mirth,
Wisdom will shake hands
with the ruins of
your last, very personal encounter
in bed...


An entire generation is swaying...
Swaying unto the horizon of
knowledge.
A deep despair
of a dissatisfied, demoralizing death.
Death will speak to you
even in the processions you take part...
Even when there is a ray
of sunlight creeping through
the cracks of time...
It will smile to you like
a warm, friendly hand.


I do not speak of love
It is out of the box of my comprehension.
Or apprehension.
But oh my brother!
I wait for the sign love carved on the guitar...
I will stare at the clouds
and wait...
I will look out for the
poets of other worlds
to leap into my soul...


I prefer darkness to light,
and the night to the day
for the night brings me
my Moon...
I can hide my true self in its realms...
If you look upon me
O dear sweet night,
bring m the time when
the world, so bright in itself,
will need no light.


I shall not rest
till the night provides
light to all...
Though political,
yet philosophical
will be the times...
and till that day
arrives
When Freedom shall plant
a sweet kiss
upon my lips.
And then my wretched soul shall
rest in the arms of Death
And travel onto a happier world
and
wait...wait...wait...