It’s just the magic wand
It’s just like James Bond
Just a little step beyond
The seconds I’d disband
Then there is paradise
A piece without a price
A virtue made of vice
The incest of the nights
A hive made of heaven
Where one becomes seven
And I’ll go up to eleven
Getting even without being evil
Bright is the dark mind
That asks things to unwind
Reset, reshape, impossibly aligned
To fit the otherwise inclined
Perfect balance of the souls
All lose, I savor my goals
And yet the night lulls
And dreams stall
Mean nothing at all
Just a picture
A photo
Just an image
Of a motto
Its tomorrow
Magic
It’s not….
sorrow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem