My heresy
The curse of an open mind
A lack of belief to any prophecy
To eyesight of the blind
No one knows me, I swear
All who lie they believe me
All those who think they fear me
All those who dare trust me
Saw only my emptiness
Not the room filled by recitations
As I walked past the river
Thought of happiness
To me comfort only exists
In pages blank - room for thought
Room for sadness, truth
For answers to questions too often sought
And frontiers pushed beyond view
So I wouldn't see
The edges of the page
Papercuts, marks of my heresy
To me something beyond sacred
Seen as insignia impure
Called the devils lure
But no devil has time
To listen to my speeches, inspirations
To be responsible for a death without funeral
No one knows me, I swear
All who promise they love me
All who say they understand me
All who declare they hate me
Simply stare at the blank page
The room I left for thought
As I walked away, along the river side
To think of truth, where knowledge and fate collide
Where I began
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem