Lacuna
Tough to rule, a throne you forged in stone,
the weight of time, it seems to sink so calm.
For you, the king of all that gone,
you seem to rule alone.
I learned that fire burns with rage.
Although it warms, do kiss those flames,
for beauty, often hides its face,
and we the hopeful gone in blaze.
For who can choose to stay,
where peace can doubt its fate,
doubt its purpose or its ways?
Where time itself will count its days,
and prays each one, to find one way,
but it seems we all still walk astray,
to blame the one whom orchestrates.
I shed my mask and felt the sun one time,
I burned and nearly fell off my mind.
Too sad, we breathe to please all eyes,
and die a life of sad, disguised.
So I ask, if love was all and so, so true,
would love now guide the lost in you?
For if love knows you, the way you do,
would love stay too, when all falls through?
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