To the seashore, stood the silent surf,
The waves were still
As a body dead and nill
Had encountered the depth
To the ocean's breath.
From to the scout lost,
In those universal sands, in the bald lands.
Like a drop in the unceasing sea,
Unified was he to thee.
In the mysterious alcazars,
Of spirits and visions revenant,
Of figments of imagination
And of dark dangers imminent,
I intuited a phantom lingering,
Famished for a soul, it held me fearing.
The witches' place and oils vivid,
To gladiators with builts rigid,
Falling into the abyss void and mystifying,
A collapse to death yet remaining undying.
They say the dreams do come to light.
I hope not for I have meager might.
To brave through storms, I dare not try.
Better if it's in my sleep I cry.
If in my dream, I die.
