Into the swirls of foamy waves, into the depth unseen,
Dragging cages, mortal slaves, we seek for the ardent green.
Callous hearts with amber flames burn to sprinkle light,
For here begins the last mile with an enigma baffling bright.
Gazing deep into the brook, we count each turns and folds,
Shining stones as beacon rays, proclaiming mines of golds;
Pull us close to the gasping end, no reasons said or asked,
Into the clouds of sullen skies, our dreams are wrapped and masked.
Who am I? My name can say, I bear a name on earth,
I stride in pride with a mortal cage, I owned it through my birth.
Through lands of surreal whims and thoughts, I walked a thousand miles,
I know so well, my end will kneel and beg for crimson smiles.
Irony, as we say and feel, mortals must lay dead,
No fervent tides can ever in form hold our mundane bed.
And there into the flecks of bones, broken ashes fly,
Fuming hopes and shattered dreams kiss the final sky.
Behold the edge, the craggy lanes have called for mortal pile,
Time for a journey, a phase anew beyond the earthen mile.
Crested dreams and frames of the cage, left behind the door,
Footprints held in embossed marks, on the dunes of the final shore.