Flames burning my bodily abyss
and something leaves
me so easy as if not part of me.
Sense of spiritual darkness
and pain possess my essence
in the exiles of my destiny.
I am sinking.
Among sights cringing
in horror and tortures
enslaving me in redemption.
Sceneries sinking mournful lamentation
reflecting the destinies of the billion
martyrs destined by clear silence among
which the floating echo
of the dark intellect.
My nightmares, so real,
part of a cerebral labyrinth,
are darkness, surprising me with
its wisdom, blinding me with its flame,
dancing in a fierce harmony, more wildly
and more bright than ever
to meet the morning dark.