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Take all the things that you are not,

The lies, the promises, the lot.

The crashed attempts at symmetry,

The endless drives of infancy.

Then open wide a silver box

With worn out hinges and broken locks,

And throw your turpitude inside.

The silver walls will that abide.

Strap this silver box of lies

Onto your back with cotton ties,

And out into the calm blue sea

Take the box and swim with me.

We’ll swim until the shore’s no more.

We’ll swim until our souls are sore.

Further than the furthest wall.

Further than a mother’s call.

 And in the centre of this deep,

Where hazy clouds in circles sweep,

You’ll tear the box off soaking ropes,

The box of all your lowest hopes.

Without a grain of any care,

You’ll throw the silver in the air.

It’ll splash into the blue,

And all that shall be left is you.

We’ll swim back to the untouched sands

Of our ancient, true homelands.

We’ll lie down in the growing shade,

And watch a yellowed sun fade.

Feo P-S.

November 23, 2011