dead spaces
ruins of morality
old scars
smouldering remains of energy
and a crystal like a flame frozen
my consciousness

the army - they are a few
because those who have the fight within
and faces pale white
pass away too often

the enemy seems to be powerfull
and it is easier not to provoke him

cowards !
the might you know not !

the path of enlightment marked with tears
will not go back anymore

the art
is not to get lost in a vicious dance
in a maze of turnings
mirages unreliability

once
there was something
taken away from me
i fought
once iwon
the victory redeemed with blood

many had to die
i am ashamed of a shadow of doubt
i have been not esteemating

the might !

once i was given something
in the black of the night
i was dazzled by the gleam of its blackness
and the trees were bowing down before it

now when they are asleep
dream takes their senses away
and plays with their thoughts
in the kingdom of dream
there is no place for them

how much time will flow
before i finish the dukedom
I am not able to know

this i know
it will be ye entrancemperium...

*By Carol Wroblewski