I understand that this world is nothing but a breath of eternal hope and dreams,
betrothed with undead legends, whom words and voices and art and souls left a permanent mark on this earth with no need of goodbyes.
Icons pass by each lifetime by swiveling along the swift of time and they race against leaping deer that possess
the mystical source of immortality called poetry.
And we pray to God that one day we will be one of them
Because enthroning one of us as the King
Will mean that we’ve done something to change
A world too difficult to change to begin with.
And we will engrave our names next to wishful thinkers like us that not even their wildest dreams envisioned
They would be standing next to us.
So here we are wondering what it would be like
If one day we would sit down on a plain, dull chair
And call it successfully our throne.