How can I

even cry,

or dare to utter

the faintest word of complaint

or annoyance?

Cursing for shattered dreams

when both head for a hasty fulfill,

as they are pursued in a temple

of gold and exotic luxuries.

And now the blindfold is gone,

And I see, the cycle of soul.

It is not as my weeping part thought.

For dreams do not devour amongst

Rather they help and aid their souls

Feeding each other with ink and blood.