We speak to the sky,
Praying someone will hear,
The blue of the sky,
Keeps us safe from all fear,
The gray heavy clouds,
Announce storms that are near,
The sky seems so real,
Yet it’s but air and light,
A constant mirage,
Be it day, be it night,
Could Life be that way?
An illusion blue-gray,
The cold Autumn Wind,
Will just carry away.
With the proper wordsFor Love and Life,He never is alone
It looks to the Sky for the truth,It perfumes the whole World with its scent,And to Love and Beauty, its image is lent.
Cannot retain all the juggling thoughts,That wet it, like a constant Rain.
And controls everything,Controls your Life,Like Feudal Lords did,In Communism,The people do the serf’s bid.Beware!History repeats itself,In a most uncomfortable way,Stealing liberty, chocking initiative,Drowning social and individual rights,Yesterday, tomorrow and today.
Poetry, sort of spices allThat is in fact at hand,Emotionally speakingEverything around youBecomes a bit more grand,For example, Spanish guitarsIf by pure fantasy,You have imagined onePoetically, at hand.
Upon our lives,For you to realize,That love is what’s important,The rest, Who cares?We improvise,What flowers we will plant,What roads down, we will dance,What countries we will speculate upon,Will we study them all, or only one?Who cares?Lovers don’t share, the World’s despair,They live in a shell of their own,Where it doesn’t matter,If their home is made…
