In my mind's eyes I see the path
|
To the gates of child's land
|
Fluffy moss under my feet
|
My hair talking with the wind
|
Drops of rain which have just fallen down
|
Like the pearls on conweb's cover
|
|
I ask who we are
|
The candle lights
|
Waiting for unquiet wind
|
A crooled mirror of space
|
A handful of ash which wants to
|
Become the diamond
|
|
Although the Time is mocking at us o openly
|
He is laughing at us
|
Setting its face against us
|
We are not able
|
To rule over the current of his stream
|
|
In my mind's eyes I see the trees
|
Which are trying to touch the sky
|
With their whispering arms
|
Old tales are being told by the bird
|
Just opening the arms is enough
|
To be soared up by the wind
|
|
Although the Time is mocking at us o openly
|
He is laughing at us
|
Setting its face against us
|
We are not able
|
To rule over the current of his stream
|
|
The Nature answers
|
We are what we believe
|
|
-----------------
|
The Gates Of The Green
|
| Delight |
