Ballads of the wise.


Do not count on me,

I am but a beautiful lie,


and mixed into your blood,

by your ancestors,

all those folklore,

all those tales of gallantry,

they are but a figment of imagination,

don’t count on your fragile beliefs,

they can break into a million shards,

in a flicker of seconds,

the  maddest of moments,

when your heart falls in snares,

of  foolish but alluring desires,

do not succumb,

be steadfast,

the temptations may perturb you,

force you,

to shift your sails,

to march your ship,

right into the storm,

and thrust it against the ghastly winds,

to waiver you,

to arouse in you,

the need to be bigger,

larger than your shadows,

it might never happen,

as centuries lapse,

all you are,

but a running mechanism,


the folly does not lie in wanting,

it lies in wanting to be more,

there is no “more”,

do not yield to the monsters of history,

they are the very fabric,

that meddle with your logic,

snapping the rope that keeps you tied to reality,

discard the gamble,

it is not worth it,

be like a wanderer,

a shepherd,

who rears and controls his sheep,

protecting them from harm,

but do not think that these sheep are yours,

for the taking,

do not feed the belly of fire,

just dance as the warmth it emanates,

be like a soft poem,

the unfurls,

reveals itself,

with formidable power,

and yet falls like the sweetest of the nectars,

on the ears,

of the people ,

that want to hear,

that want to absorb,

the wisdom,

that floats in the wind,

for the time to come.




The bereavement exits

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