I’m a healer; not a feeler,
a traveler with loss of passion.
Pipe dreams are clear when day is gone,
then I spawn stories you can’t imagine.

I’m a wanderer; but I am not lost,
burn the human manufactures.
The sky is bleeding poor man’s gold,
drowning lunatic dream-catchers.

I’m a winter child; but my heart is fire,
it's a roaring black hole of ancient lullabies.
Follow the zebra through the midnight woods,
I saw glimpse of amnesia in its eyes.

Her life is a constant wonder
with soul incessantly wandering
the blues of the deepest voids,
oblivious of the turquoise-blue
it could've found in the shallow of the sea.

She has a mind that seems recondite,
abysmal and profound
she still searches for the meaning of each word
for, to her, it doesn't seem much wrong
maybe the reason she is not understood by many
is because she is not trying to be.

Life can be hard to decipher sometimes
one won't be certain of living
with the absence of existence
yet the other one is certain of existing
even without living.

Which dreams do not knock,
That doorway was my vision,
More than my spoken words,
My silent innings were there,
But whence your feet came,
Thence my world is on the move.


The place of God was empty in my heart,
I observed your face in there today.
I am that maverick cloud long lost,
Which settled finally upon your sky.


If you are the soul then let me be the body,
Let me be your lifelong shadow.
If you tell me to then I will only be a recluse,
Else if you tell me I'll be your glamour.
You are the accompaniment, I am the melody,
You are the night, I am the moonlight.


The place of God was empty in my heart,
I observed your face in there today.
I am that maverick cloud long lost,
Which settled finally upon your sky.


Let stars be merciful to us,
Let fulfilled every desire be.
The ones we kindled together,
Let a newborn life be ours.
Let our small house be filled,
No evil eye should disturb us.


The place of God was empty in my heart,
I observed your face in there today.
I am that maverick cloud long lost,
Which settled finally upon your sky.

I must confess
That the sun went West,
For it is in its nature
To do so,
Just as it is in mine
To follow its path,
A wanderer wandering,
A rouge retreating
Forever into the sunset,
Always seeking,
Never finding,
Always looking,
Never seeing.