GOD IS DEAD, FATED TO BE AN EXILE, CONSIGNED TO THE FLAMES SINCE 2005.

Never in my life I would the grave of light so comforting

As I find something similar that was not inside of myself

And yet it was there, waiting.

Waiting to find me in this dark.

Virgil, Dante, Sade!

This stranger listened and I bade

Talking of the world and ourselves we wade

What a storm we made

Master, this being made me

For I am the one that dares to see

To understand the violently loving things that be

I ask myself, sometimes,

Possibly, maybe,

Was this person really looking for me?

©V. Sade 2007 Continue reading →