on the edge of the earth where the lonely rock meets the sea, in this maelström that keeps growing harder, my hopes and solicitude collide with melancholia and torment.
night is brief, time is running out, long is the path to wisdom.
fresh morning, slowly awaking from a deep sleep, her heap of dreams is waiting for a waft of wind.
feeling so small in this world so big, i’m facing the silver deep rising all around me, will it consume me or carry me on ?
from time to time i find myself looking westward, thinking about what i have left behind, the sorrow of passion still stab my heart.
strolling on the legendary paths, i perceive whispers from imaginary creatures, ancient symbols from a forgotten world.