We all are given rare gift -The time will pass, the planes will shift,But for as long as we have dreamsTo live through time we have the means.The dream may free, the dream may kill,The dream may heal and make one ill,The dream may bless, the dream may curse,It's paradise - and the abyss.The dream is not the thing to share,And pure dreams are truly rare,So many dim, yet some as flare …But one will never lay them bare.The dream is like the guiding light,Yet its existence makes a plight,And when one dreams of other's loveHis own feelings bent to muff.The dream is powerful somehow ...I, too, once dreamed of pure love,But when it turned to be a bluffer -The time has come for one to suffer.There is no time for second thought,That dream is doomed to die and rot,Through withered lands I'm passing by ...The dream is foe, not ally.For when one hide in endless dreamsTheirs bitter nature feed his sins -When their poison flow through veinOne only strengthen own pain.But once the pain is forsaken,And pieces of shattered dream are taken,I will create new one and sate ...Is that is how the dream degrade ?Those ones who cannot dream of skyWill never have the will to fly,And they are bent to comfort's sinsFor they know not such things as dreams.I will still keep my dream of other,If not for me - than for another.
Сердце
When one is set in own pathHe will escape all crowd's mass,And will be ready for the fightWith own demons of the blight.He will prevail after all,But pay a costly, dire toll,That toll will be his former life ...He shall destroy it in the strife.The flame of heart may break one's night,The flame of heart destroys the blight,The flame of heart is endless fire,The flame of heart is your desire.My word is blade and song is shield,And I'm still fighting on the fieldIn some eternal, endless war ...That fight is fierce - but what for ?I cannot flee, I cannot run,My armor glistens under sun,And blood now feeds the earth below ...I am, like others, one in row.My throat is dry, my thoughts all spin,And hope to end the fight is thin,It won't extinguish by itself -For I am fighting with myself.My mind is helmet for the head,My heart is armor in the red,And as the drops of blood now burnThat heart is ready for its turn.My heart is afire, engulfed in flame,My heart is afire - and yet just the same,My heart is afire wherever I go,My heart is afire - and let it be so.
