Behind the vastness of my scars,
scarcely lives a man.
A man who never chose the easy way.
Who reached for unreachable stars.
Who stood for what is right.
Who let the storm
teach him courage.
The lessons learned,
never softened the edges of life.
Never.
Soft, unblemished petals
never adorned his discernment.
Neither fear…
nor doubt…
could still his steps
along the luminous path of scars.
A path where even shadows
spill gold into the light.
Spill gold into the light.
Behind these scars
there lives a man,
on the brim of the horizon,
where beauty cascades,
pouring into the swan-lake of sunshine.
And the sky leans close
to whisper
what it knows
of what is only known
to those who hoist their necks.
To those who hoist their necks.
