So it ends, when all will begin,
Before, if I must force,
The final strength, the endless song,
To toss away what lance of burden
That once pierced perils for wisdom,
Wiping clean all dust of ponder,
But only be blinded by what radiance still hidden,
To leave behind, then retrieve once more
What lurking spirit that haunts all thrilling legends.
Freezing cold from campfire of gold,
Sightless eyes, of no shape and size
Should we have known, why no doubt be told,
As water and soil for a garden of bloom,
When stories be planted to mythologies in tune.
Yet I wish it never be,
Should many glitters from crystalline tears
Be harvested after what impossible yet true.
Then, if I may proceed,
Of altar and prayer, of thoughts as thorns,
Even to sow a seed
For a fissure be cracked, a path to stride,
A world renewed and a kiss for eternal,
Thus I be sacrificed, if I must stand out,
To spill, to gorge,
Words before dawn, pure without imagination.

2006/4/8
Rewritten 2006/7/14