Varanda
See the last of the day
As if it were the very last of light
That existance would be swallowed
Never to be given up
Never to be renewed again
That morning would never swing again
That knives would find places at belts
The world betrayed
A blade away
A soft sky
Dressed in thicker cloud
The last beams paint
the nature of a farewell sun
In light I was born and subjugated
In darkness I rise
The eyes of my soul restless up there
screaming at the evening birds retirement
Warning them
It would be the last time
Blick blink
Varanda
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