Deaf to my horizons; for the sounds I am called upon;
And for the time that collapses, I remain deaf.
Deaf to these sounds, unable to resolve into an aeon;
Caressing the darkness and leaving up expectations.
So shall the time pass, for my longing wonders,
As light fades away: what is expected after?
Burning stars, burdening desires: my anathemas;
Days of unfolding patterns, burning as magma.
Hunting answers, trying to escape my damnation;
For the time that collapses, I remain deaf.
How ought I to live by the same state of condition?
Murdering silence: Must I be to judgement brought?
For my unforgiving syllables and thoughts;
And for my yearning leading me astray;
Would I try to answer to that day ?
As I have not chosen to speak, I remain deaf.
How careful then, shall I live standing to my world,
For every secret of my heart, and the silence of my words?
Moving into the fate of my will, trying to forgive.
Nothing left; but an immutable desire to give;
Roses left in sand, and dust of thoughts cast in stone.
Numerous memories I am called upon,
Resemblance to trivia that seem long gone.
As my words become a spear that rive my bones.
As a glowing star that remain hidden from my eyes,
And for the dark veil that envelops thousand skies,
I can see this unfolding white gently showing through.
May it take ages to appear, and decades to travel;
I quietly sit: thinking of all my stories yet to tell.
Ought I become an open book, for a future to strew;
Or simply stay mute; contemplating my depictions:
Unable to see why I remain deaf to my inner horizons.