Your Prophetic Dreams

I don't love your prophetic dreams

still wandering around.

I do not follow silence

that resembles the first

summer snow.

I'm here to know the truth

about your beautiful mind.

I am here to give a body

to found words.

When you raise me from ashes

of conscience, when you take

my firstborn shadow in your arms,

let the happiness strip naked,

experience the soothing taste of air.

Show me the light that will bear

starry tears on the black body

of the night.