Sail
I made a one-man yacht,
when I was innocent and young.
I painted my dreams onto its navigation chart,
and my iron will onto its mast that extends long.
I set sail on a day fair and clear,
crossing the winding river of mortality.
I didn’t pay the river a penny of fear,
cause my destination was the bank of eternity.
My yacht slipped into a thick fog of desire,
blurred by its seductive humidity,
Then my yacht strayed into a blinding fog of greed,
inhaled its insidious morbidity.
My eyes were amused by endless mirages,
my heart was immersed in the perpetual empty.
