La Luna Del Cacciatore

The hunt was always...
It existed as much
As starlight with Dark depths
Of hidden worlds in touch.
Next turn of time spiral
Always have place for a new step,
The hunter's glory is to make it,
Even if it's trap.

The hunter's morning choose his Aim. His day
Is borning of Intention of his way.
Evening of him is Silence. And, at last,
His night is Action, time to do it fast.

The night favours
The cleanliness of mind,
And lets it to behold,
To search,
To find.
Under the velvet veil
I'm hidden from
The empty vanity,
And magic night invites me
To the travel of eternity.

Making a step I'm proving
To myself and world entire:
My spirit lives,
Depths of my Heart is fire,
My look is firm,
My temper is self-willed,
My thougts is equity,
My dreams are safely sealed,
My target surely will be in my sight,
And what's my will -
Always will rise to fight.

And when you push away the land
To fly, in morning's prime,
You always spread your wings
As if in the first time.
And there are no two equal jumps
Into uncertainty,
Just your intention and the breath
Of young eternity,
That young eternity,
Whose boundless embrace
Light up the eyes
In endless halls of space.

The target must be hit with grace
And shedded blood will turn
Into the gold of wisdom of the dawn.
And when I'm flying by above
The next abyss,
Whose borders show the tops
Of all my victories,
I'm quick as lightning
Come in sight to disappear,
My mind in other time,
My actions' here.



Poetry by Black Knight
Read 979 times
Written on 2009-07-19 at 12:48

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