In the night that came around
just before the demons fed on dreams unaccomplished,
I have seen the stars,
one needs darkness for the light to show
and nothingness makes place for everything to happen
when hope is in the trade time’s a moment repeating on itself…

I am in the present written from a book that’s spared
hired as a preacher selling truths,
I scar inside and change the fate of those who look
ask me for a question that may open minds,
for silence rides a racing horse that wins
and grass grows where only dust remains –

The last scribe hunts words shaped in coal
an understanding offered to an altar in the desert,
why push forward when the heart is heavy
in the total absence of ideas
kneel before the center of existence
and cry a prayer as a sentence burnt in stone…