Between the curtains of perceptions and lies,
lost in the flavors of tomorrow's dreams.
A lonely stride in the path to the past,
the winds open up the wounds of the heart.

The grass flows along the whiffs of the breeze,
the sands dance to the light on them.
The minds strolls on the stony road of memories and hopes;
all alone, the hearts pulls down the flight of the wings.

Between the lines of what's own and what's not,
unknown on some road, the wind howls a calling.
The barefoot burns in the heat of the sand under,
the flakes of the snow embrace the cold in me.

In the shades of black and white some live and die,
the shades of my life too vibrant to fade.
In the folds of my memory, the water flows;
stopping at no track, onward; the journey goes.