The Whisper In The Wind


There once was this man who never fell apart

His mind was like the statues of Easter Island

On the gravelroads he traveled forth, in search of something blithe

And yet the world was smiling with it's suffocating glare, he never gave a damn


His mother told him dear, don't you ever listen up?

But his thoughts were filed with memories of past

There were a few hearts he had broken, shattered, ended

But none of these enough to call him an evil man?


These words been told, since centuries beyond

Yet have anyone heard of it's true ancestry?

No life ever can see through this misty, dusty aura

Except for one wanderer, who died away aswell


Under the birch tree's arms he saw it all at once

He smelled the scent brought by an ocean breeze

Listening to the world's sorrow's and bitter thoughts, he ate a crust 

Through hours, days and weeks he sat so still under the very same birch tree


This little bird of joy, she sat upon his knee

She sang so soft he could have fell asleep

Yet he feed her dear with his, only, single, crust

And she flew along his shoulder, to never leave again


Along the muddy path they went, so quiet, calm, at ease

No more a word would utter from his lips

After that no one would see, no man, no child nor mam

What happened to this man among the stones


Listen deep, listen deep, and hear his shallow sigh

And you will know of what he really was

The End

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