Athens

dream...
I woke up at the feet of Kirke, tired,
between small bottles and animals...
Got stoned while grasping my surroundings...
But who was I, to question the reality of my dream?
For I saw the Forrests of Aeaea
and the army of pigs?
The sweet illusion had gone,
and destiny reached me...
My wings were broken by the early mornings.
The rays of dawn broke and hove
my long lasting african lethargy.
And what a terrible storm the wind prepared...

journey...
So I ran, through forrests, above rocks,
above forrests.
I was yet late, when I’d realize the change.
Turned into a hawk,
I was winging the air.
Below, in depths, fishes and monsters,
and the surging foam.
The nature whipped me off.
The warm air touched me,
as the hellenic empirere lied afore my feet.

the city...
The converted legacy of the masters,
with weathered stones and narrow ways,
the ultimate pillars of serenity.
Beaming silence looks down upon the masses,
and swelter melts down the rush.
The subversive power of the sun,
before silence turns into darkness,
shadows exuding all around.
Happiness is crawling out slowly,
To drown the sorrows of memory,
right into the dark cherry liquid.
So I fall asleep, in silence,
And besides all this, I’m leaving
the blissful world of yesterday,

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