Sunday, 8 September 2013

The Wayfarer

George Frederic Watts: Warrior

He came from the rain
from the temple of the broken chance
where the children yawn with boredom
where the seasons
are creaking roundabouts
He opened his eyes
on the distant battlefields
the fire burned out on the dusty road

The wayfarer has no name
just a stranger face in the crowd
no more soldier of a little reign
no more parody of a borrowed life
He left his pride
in the toybox of yesterday
and began to talk to the stars

And nobody knows his fate
where is the source of his tales
but the secret can't never be revealed,
the secret is a heartbeat in the eve
Another step ahead to seek
Another step ahead to understand
and the winter is so far away
The secret is a journey with no end

The wayfarer has no crown
but a necklace of flowers
and its thousand colours flow in the night
searching again for a piece of courage
till the next as his friend
and the wind has betrayed them