The soul persecuted by loneliness
begins to sing the song of doubt,
as distance refuses to break its hold,
growing feelings that suffocate the heart,
slowly shattering the supposedly resilient self,
In a voice that flows so tenderly,
carried by the wind to every corner of the mind,
come and go whenever you like,
then, I was lost,
in the wilderness of uncertainty,
by a heart without a home,
flying me high by simple lines that seemed complete,
and I began to fear to search for meaning
These old dreams are starting to feel disturbing,
What should I do to remain awake in sleep?
Dear The Time Before the Light,
Who owns the morning dew that brings a fresh scent of hope,
Let that earthy scent of yours erase the traces of the night,
And free the mind shackled by the stubborn conviction of things unknown.
Thank you for reading!