The search

On black rainy dreary nights,
once in a while by myself,
wandering alone on roads silent,
I slowly gaze at life's slumber,
through the dark curtains of life,
I dare to venture,
I yearn to feel the secrets of life.
In the still shadows of the stars,
I try to sense the transience of hearts.
I peak into the depths of darkness,
seeking the truth of sight.
I lend my ears to the silent winds,
straining to hear their dead songs.
I bow over to the deserted graves,
and try to breath the scent of life.
And starved of the good of the black angels,
I search virtue in the disguise of evil.

In all these dreams, in all these hopes
I often wonder, I often ponder
if ever, if ever
will there be anyone,
to sing the songs of silence,
to unveil the beauty of darkness,
to smell the fragrance of dead breaths,
to feel the cold of unshed tears.
In this world of infinite,
in this land of legitimate,
will ever there be born,
a soul - a life,
who will quench the thirsty rain,
appease the restless terrain,
ignite the frost of fire,
cool the flames of snow,
will ever life be blessed,
by a wanderer, a savior
who will feel and understand.