I can't fake it, I never could, I never tried.
All my words applied and amplified.
There meaning just a matter of perspective.
Conflicted between choices that must made in a matter of hours.
Sacrifice, or freedom.
Enslaved by my visions in the sky.
And when this dust finally settles.
There it will be, the future laid to rest.
The turning point of the imagination.
Venturing forth past that which is of a known creation.
Fear grabs the heart screams don't you dare, you can't, you mustn't.
But in this moment it must be looked upon with utter awe.
For it not a riddle to be solved.
If the decision has already made.
Ripping off the wings of a butterfly.
Can you predict its immediate outcome?
I think not.
Nothing so permanent or certain.
The ever evolving set events and circumstances.
From one to the next.
A ghost by breakfast.
Hollow be thy name only where the spirits have been forsaken.
I remember, I do not forget so easily.
The devil is always in the details.
And they dance tonight as they have never before.
And the ink is already starting to dry.
This is the night to say goodbye, farewell to the good fight.
For when you have lost your place there is no going back.
Not even if you are given a second chance.
I'm feel the distance ever so much more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sad but very thought provoking write. Well written.