The truce

AM/PM

I must remember this incredible moment

I need to remind myself that there’s still hope

I’m waving goodbye to trivial torments

And welcoming a reality I can certainly cope

Even if death threatens me again

I ought to carve these hours in my mind

No restraints for happiness shall remain

If I let go of all the hatred and start to be kind

I dare to bathe in the purest simplicity of the calm weather

And be swallowed by the comfort of the placid silence

I hover above the moon while the wind carries me as a feather

I kiss the stars while the thunder greets me with no violence

As I stay in touch with the message of a fortunate season

A joy unexpected, a gift thoroughly blessed

Turns all my uncertainties in mute oblivion

So I dress my soul with the felicity vest

I listen to the growing beatings knocking on my chest

And I allow prosperity to be my special guest

Maybe it’s not too late to breathe in and breathe out in my own pace

There’s much more to be loved, relished and saved

There are landscapes to be cherished and horizons to be appreciated

There are statues asking to come to life, poetry begging to be engraved.

I feel exultation in the promise of a colorful tomorrow

Sweet new surprises, no salty tears, just the rapture of delight

I see a promising rainbow I may trustfully follow

The dawn has come, bearing a blissful daylight

I’m being held captive by the brightest sun

Pleasure is consuming me, at last my eyes begin to shine

I feel consciously alive and inclined to have fun

All the pain is gone for the very first time

Heaven threw me ropes I can easily climb

The clouds are now clearly open wide

Like white pillows in the sky inviting me to fly

The dormant heart keeps begging to rise

And these bruised old hands insist to write

Though they constantly writhe and writhe in past demise.

Still mourning a forgotten pitiful cry

I know these fingers miss the sorrow and chaos,

They are used to the darkness, a gloom without rails

Yet I shall take over their ill will

I’m the one who spells the words in a single reel.

I’ll make these broken limbs my own paintbrush

I’ll pretend to be the artist without goals or lust.

The beastly beauty is out there, it’s time to go get it

That fake jewel has a gleam that I’m sure I can have it

I’ve got to run and chase my muse, record an image I can use

Bleed upon my supposed “creation”

Nothing is mine,

Cause it’s borrowed from a cheap nature interpretation

I sign my name and add,

World is a fertile ground for imagination

I hear the applause, my blood pulse

I feel my body tremble with anticipation.

I suck the venom of ugliness disguised as grace

I’ll drink my lament some other time

I eat away at the pride they stamp on my face

It will probably wither away late at night

It’s my choice to combine a few lighter rhymes

And swallow this battle of dreams I can’t cast aside

Sadness mustn’t rule my awaited freedom or that delayed smile

I’ve learnt to forsake my fears in a far deserted isle

It’s never wise to hide,

I should’ve known better

Death ceased to be that obvious exit I could rely,

Verses and rhythm are what matter

Time to hold my head up high,

Lines and stanzas I aim to scatter

They cannot take what’s mine

Even though what I have someday might shatter.

BY VCDA


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