Countless and blazing verdant were the leaves that sprung, buds of hope,
They clung, precariously, on to my skin, feeding on my sweat and tears,
Then some winds blew, with those frosty gusts, I watched them elope,
One by one they fell, as if sliced by a butcher’s knife, the cold metal smelted from my fears,
I protested, with my silent screams the air was rife, there was nobody around, no one to hear,
And yet they crumbled; those withering leaves, yet they fell,
Softly they floated, carried by unseen arms, ringing a death knell.
Many dreams visited my half-awakened mind,
Bright drops of mercury that I cupped in my hands in a shimmering pool,
But now, those oft-remembered wishes, I cannot find.
The winds of time speak; they call me a fool,
For this is how things must be, dreams die as a rule.
Trickle away you brilliant snakes, into memory’s depths, into its dark wells,
And rest there; while slowly fade the music of tolling, mourning bells.
Brave were the adventures I lived out in days long gone by,
Of fantastic beasts, dryads and queens, and wishes made upon a distant star,
I can see the stardust, it once veiled my eyes, and now, I see it fly,
It mingles with the air, and moves away, it vanishes, it has moved so far.
All the world is mapped, its creatures tagged, how pale the colours of this earth truly are,
The winds of time are calling, hurry; I must set sail, before its breath forever dies down,
To find a corner that mortal eyes have never gazed upon and call it my own.
The winds of time roar in triumph; against my fragile mask they batter,
To etch a line on my face with which to count each passing year,
And yet some leaves cling stubbornly on, and some traces of quicksilver linger.
Sculpted visions of a heroic future that loomed in glorious might untainted with fear,
Now are eroded, now are washed away, like sand castles on a stormy shore, alas! they once were so dear.
The sands of time fall, I pound on the glass walls, but its tiny grains gradually bury,
In the end, life has turned out to be just ordinary.