segunda-feira, 25 de novembro de 2019

Alone with the cold

Miranda - The Tempest, by John William Waterhouse (1916)

Alone with the cold,
Alone with the tides of time,
I whisper to the old
Deep past of mine.

It sank in the years
Beyond the edge of mortality,
Taking dreams, tears and fears
And their own reality.

Will it come back to learn
What it hasn't learnt before?
Will it be able to discern
The lost way to the shore?

The waves which bring the future
Are uncertain but they unfold
Unknown changes that can nurture
The old past I still hold.
Hurad Duruvan

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