From this word, I breathe to lie,
To the world an illusion and to me, myself.
A world that appears to live with your mind,
With each word that you read,
My lie elaborates a reason to live.
Now that we are together,
You and me, lets embrace my visions though your eyes,
I will write about the sunset,
And you cry out for the moon,
I will incarnate a feeling,
And you colour it within.
But, before we leave to this empty page,
You should know that I am here for the play,
I run away from my own desires,
and leave such thoughts to rust in deny,
And do we really need to rhyme our journey ?
And I should warn you again, my friend,
Dante never burned in hell.
It was the man who wanted the travel,
Lost and never to be found again.
If you are willing to come,
Let me tell you, the river often flies with the dead of love.
And now you are my creation, a song,
We can fly like a bird,
Die in another word,
Live like the Bhrama’s call,
Deceive the stars of destiny above.
A poet’s point being a puzzle,
What difference resides between a human and a word,
A word and a belief,
A lie and a truth,
Rather all began and die out lose?
I believe I am a word of my poet,
I will end within the verse of life,
Yes, with a meaning that only he will decide,
A lie, A thought, Just an inspiration to write.