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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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Of dust that lightens up the night,
Are questions dim, caressing My eyes which seek a guiding light, My soul, a dreadful blessing. In numbers, abstracts dance through time Reversing and exploring, The strings -a harp -are words in line- A melody ignoring. Why are my thoughts a sea of sand? Why is my mind on fire? The sphinx had promised me a land- Symphony of desire... A being tangent to my heart, Sometimes a pulse of evil - Harmonic sound, demonic art, The ambigram - his symbol. An now, dear Pythia, I ask Longing for a decision, Who am I, from behind the mask? I fear I failed my mission...
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