A writer without a pen,
a guitar without a string,
a lover with no one
not even a fling;
a man so poor and so alone,
would he still be happy?
Could he still sing?
I may have nothing,
I maybe unfortunate
and forsaken;
but if I have to choose
between the grandeur of this world
and what God had given me,
then I would still be wanting
to be like what I am today.
I would be
I would be
like the one who
in silence is entertained
in silence is entertained
by the laughter of ''the wind''.
And who could resist the allurement
and rhythm of the pouring rain?
The soothing flow of endless river
tamed my wildest dream
and nourished my veins.
And at sunset as I talk to God,
The Sun-God shows me
the masterpieces
that he paints.
At night I'm thrilled
by the horrifying cry of the wild;
fear has a reason
and darkness gives me a hint,
by showing me some images,
of the other side;
As I lay on the ground
close by a cliff enjoying
the astounding beauty
of the benediction moon;
of the benediction moon;
I reminisce the neon lights and the music
of the nearby town, which was once mine
and still awaits my dominion.
ArlenKaliFuentes
10:25 AM 4/15/2010