The soul of the golden jester flies,
suspended in the air of a treacherous wind
that ambushes overjoyed (like a garrulous phantom in disguise)
and across fertile pastures, bathed by silver dew,
Forged once again in the heart of our most profound and intimate remembrances,
by the ancestral blacksmith of early mornings,
Who has passed by.

As the sun rises slowly,
weighing heavily like a red-hot anvil
subtly halted at the entrails of an ancient volcano
that boils with shimmering golden melting lava
flowing powerfully throughout labyrinthine internal streams,
where the sound of a harsh hammer
blows over pastel color, dream-like thoughts,
making a lavish but secret, muffled sound
while plotting the promises
that will shape our existence as the diurnal hours elapse.

And in the end,
vanishing in a blurring dusk
that, on this occasion, had chosen to dress capriciously
In an opulent satin night gown full of brilliant yellow stars
(like the ones worn by mortals at the inescapable fall
into the precipice located right below and amongst the end of times)
within fragmented swift intervals
of crimson, purple, and violet tides,
shadowing our already short-sighted and tired eyes,
to give way towards a blackout nightfall by surprise.

However,
we have mercifully seen it
repeatedly,
So many times.

Fading echos, can't hear them in the distance;
(A suffocation, an asphyxia, over my inner self)
While rotten feelings demolish my existence,
Dusty and old books are lying on the shelf.  

A mortal wound had pierced my hungry stomach,
and my spinal column was split right down the middle.
though ***** dreams were swinging in the hammock;
(A loud and lacerating noise kept bursting from a fiddle)

Three Pebbles are sinking to the bottom of a vast pond
despite vanishing sounds, illusory mirages, and black mirrors.
While secrecy reflects on an old, perfidious, and deaf super vagabond,
the shouting encouragements come from faithful fans and cheerers.
  ​
After Listening to a solemn and tacit, heartbreaking silence,
The deafening waves of laughter were thrown upon
...copious, outrageous, and senseless acts of violence.

Darkness Growing in Twilight's Desolation
An Ebony presence crossing the foggy mist
His wings unfurled will bring damnation
onto Someone I love and used to miss.

A distant dream, like a cry from the dark
The raven's shadow, an obscure forebode,
I heard from afar a dying Dog's bark,
(A minute ago, the reaper spoke.)

While a white rabbit hurries back to its hole
near the bell tower of the barren lands,
where Diamonds are extracted from the blackest coal
And miners with silver pots dig with their own hands.

I see no reflection in the golden mirror,
which makes me think that the raven is getting nearer.