Meditation Poem by Vinicius Santos Oliveira

When everything seems right,
But it's not
there are the meditations of my heart.
Those that I can't even acquire,
those for I could die.

My heart in a turbulent storm
and there is a part, a horn
Growing in my turbulent chest
Who shall I call the guest?

The horn, grow and grow more
- The meditations of my heart -
Hunts me every cloudless night
When in my very gut, everything seems alright

Thus, the night will end soon,
dawn of new expectations will arise
My heart, the horn, the turbulent chest
shall be no more.
Or shall be.
Who knows, what are the meditations of this heart.