Photo credits: wallup.net

I’ve been hoping someone would outstretched his hands

So I asked all of them if they’re ready to rise and fight

If the narrowing faith has ended to bliss

Then it’s the miracle of this old story.


Cries of demise has turned into winds of psalms

Watching the blue moon above as it smiles down

Through the lament grief made by loathsome Past

My hopes will turn to wind and then blow like a dust.


It may be the Voice that I’ve been seeking for

Though it still ended with nothing but a folklore

Yet, my hand still search for the invisible light

That will save my soul through this unbearable night.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s