The Dark Room

A few open pages
Hold a series of lines
As a cool breeze
Flows in through the open window
My darkness, egulfs
All but my face
As the woman plucks the strings
In the sands located far away.

The sounds of various darkness appear
And disappear within the vaults of memories
A fusion of despair and rhythms, colourless dreams;
And a voice keeps haunting through the arteries.
Winter has left a bone too many in the paradise
The returning shephard hides sins in the eyes.

So, my dear darkness
Run over me tonight
Like a dice rolling through history
Take my hand and embrace me
Make my childhood flash
All over this silent sky
The stretches of my imagination
Are demanding to fly.