The days past,
Once new light expires,
As thread wove of cotton;
By the forsaken man,
To the creature in which it came,
Their Fate of exclusion set forth by destiny,
Unsure of a reason nor the cause,
We gather as one,
As our life is depicted before,
Now quiet and humble,
My brother’s blood stains the crops,
A man of his time; heir to the throne,
I reach out for help,
As my mind wonders through time,
Searching for aid, moving with quaint dilemma’s,
Light soon grows dimmer as lights of grey fog his mind.
His blue eye’s left untainted,
Pumped by his heart, I see wings set sail,
The silk robes around his torso,
I see freedom in his eyes,
And continue my work.
Now I rest my case on ever endowing health,
For those of age seek only death,
My time is near its end son,
Listen to these words I have given you.
As our forefathers have sent us guide-lines,
We are given the choice to stand along, or fade away:
When the time has come you shall know,
That this holds no water to a predestined fate.
Martin my son,
Escape this hell hole,
Set the tracks,
Ride them among your brothers and sisters,
Seek True happiness,
The look in a man’s eye will never be the same,
Happiness brings along heavenly content which cannot be contained nor restrained.
Dear son, you have the world.