Storyteller

An ocean corroded sandstone – Photo by Cassa Bassa at Clontarf Beach, Sydney, Australia

Your face tells a thousand stories.
The folds of your skin
capture every storm you endured.
In between,
there are records of victory
and triumph.

New generations keep rising up
to take up the challenge.
You stepped back tide after tide
until you no longer
protect them
at the front line,
instead you watch over them
in prayer.

We look to you for wisdom.
Your face is the evidence
that history doesn’t lie.
If we say
that you are only a stone,
we are fools
beyond the reach of gods.

Rome

I only allow myself 
to be half full of Rome
untill nightfall

The ancient streets
are filled with mortal sins
of the modern life

In the shadow of the street lights
I take off my sandals
kneading my heels into the cold cobblestones
pressing my palms on the old walls

Now
I let the saints and ghosts
fill me with the rest
A scarlet rose in my hair
A bronze raven at my feet

Silk road

the mystical red scarf
fluttered from the east to the west

transcended history and art
religions and technology
medicines and plagues

she survived
the harsh sand storms
the blistering desert sun
she surpassed
the camel corpses
the night thieves

prevailed the long journey
she staked out in torn shreds
marked the history
in scarlet

Silk Road (album) – Kitaro