Cult

One day I saw a fear

in the eyes of the clown

dancing in the middle of my dream

selling prescribed grief

the short cut of knife

that forbade to breathe

the caravans of life

The marriage of nothingness

and greyness was joy with short

bursts of laugh dying

on the lips of mourness those

trying not to avoid

the path leading to

the unstoppable will of survive

A god's cold face

stone that marks

miles of our life

Fragile like withered leaves

overgrown with the moss

they are trying to imitate a divine

ship a velvet hulk

that is struggling against the wind

and being torn by desires of astorm

I saw the face of god

so crumpled like a sheet

wich remainds me of the night awake