I have met her in a dream
where the nights refuse to stay
and I am driving to the mountains left side from the sea,
have a calling for the heights
and got a house to build,
my two arms digging making place for roots to fit –
oaks to grow up in our garden
for our kids to play;
showed your soul through opened rib-cage at occasions
and the bleeding pulled your madness to the surface,
in the battle to exist
you did misspell the road to glory…

I have met myself through life
an old men always feeling younger,
I do not dream but did imagine
all the terrors locked in bottles of their own,
it took some time to learn the lessons
took a lifetime to remember words of wisdom written in the clay,
my second mother left a testament for loving
words were few but burnt in deep,
and did I listen?
I recall the war as I do the taking my goodbyes
hoping that beyond the havens she is very much alive…

I have met my army marching
their feet naked and the hands up in the air,
counting stars when nothing’s left to trust
they slide one after the other in the gutter,
I loved her once, I’ve got a photograph misplaced somewhere
but nothing could have guessed the silence to become,
when the grass turned greener everywhere
while my backyard covered with a yellow scent,
the Doctor wrote me medication
and I fell asleep once more,
dreaming of a calling for redemption,
dreaming of a different world…