mardi 17 août 2010

The Red Dress Was Empty Of Human

It's a long story which started in the maze of the line.

Some words dropped wild on a page of mine…
Some flattery disguised in the dress of the sincerity…
It was a promise, a commitment for some parcels of immortality,
A finger of light showing a red door for a paradise to be there…

But who knows where the obscure hides?

At the root of one day, the smiles were flourishing,
Smelling as fresh as a forest of jasmine.
The poetry was the only meaning
For a thousand years of delighted connection…

But who knows where the false leads?

Decorum, glittering of syrupy whispers
Wanted to build cattle with clouds,
Roads of mist, a sky of green,
For to erect a kingdom of tales.

But who knows where the lie starts?

In dreams, distances have no distance.
And so it has been easy to travel from the past to the promise.
In fantasy, reality changes to your mood's feeling.
The sky has the colors of your whispers.

But who knows where the reality ends?

The fairy castle founded on an old fen
Started to collapse of his misty walls,
The roof of stars was just an old sheet perforated by moths.
The illusion of the darkness dies in the dawn.

But who knows what darkness covers?

Coz at least, if one day you catch a glimpse of a red dress,
in one dark corner of a dream,
Don't be surprised if the next morning,
You find yourself talking to a stuffed dummy.

But who knows if puppets have thoughts?

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