Kept Alive

When you’re born

You have no idea about

Your journey

Cut-out for you

Neither how long you’ll be

On this winding road

Through valleys and mountains

Deserts and ravines

Nor how long you’ve chased


Until at one summer this spark

Of a glowworm lights-up

A short moment’s paradise

That shows itself like a

Floating garden in the skies.

In love all’s floating  and like

A feather I rose…

But then all climaxed moments


I fell like a stone

Until your hands caught me then

Seven years later

I lived to tell the story

And still I wonder about the last

Phase of my life…

When you’ve counted

Eighty summers

You’ll be the scribe who is kept

By his Muse alive.



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