The quicksands of life
demand an original footwork
not the paths treaded by strangers
or the winds of nameless atoms.
you need trust in this desert
to follow your own law and constitution
and a heart that never breaks
when the tribunal judges you
for stupidity and the losing of mind.
the truly mad ones
need just few candles to stroll the blackholes
and the help of friends to fill the holes of soul.
they don’t mind the dirt or the hurt.
the ship knows the way
stop captaining and complaining.
when the time comes
the compass shall burn to call the north pole’s dream.
Thy Vox 
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