Nearly earth will to break…
How this time so crumbled.
Men’s spirit
seems wrapped
To the devil-god’s finger
Pointing the wasted ground…
Sitting at the dune’s summit
I see through the distance
Armies of humble
ones
Carrying few wealth
of their human misery…
And the horizon that
rolls
Scaring rumours of
Unstructured hours over
Mankind of few
foresights
That did confused
Wisdom to kingdoms,
Ruining hopes of
wanderers
And faith to wonders.
Let me there, counting dawns
Still to come
Before blockhead
Find the
way to sell
The sun and its moon
To the richer of the bastards
Wanting to be the last one to breath
The last expectation of cool air.
Here I am, watching the last evening sun...
My barefoot digging the sand
Ready to find there
The grave of the last wisdom-er.
