An Old Man's Mistakes
It’s him, whose fault 'twas,
And none other is worthy of
What he is.
'Cause he is the man, of ancient wisdom,
Valiant eternally and
Of his own accord.
Mistaken, the old man, repents his
Guilt, but knows how to fetch
The gold off the waste.
And that is in him, which makes him
Excellent, balancing all,
Of an old man's mistakes!
(July 4/5/6 2009)

Where does he belong?
Where does he belong?
Only the lord knows or he.
But not so easy it is, no!
To discover your identity in this
Wild world, as you may die for
You know not why!
He is the one, with the guts of
A man, getting though it,
All the span,
To find himself, at his place, being a victor again and again.
Who knows why, he has to face,
A grave fate, for his grace…
(July 4/5/6 2009)
The following is the perfect one I’ve written yet:

The Dark Miasma
Friends they’re, immortal, but ready
To die.
For the sake of love, friendship, trust
And the living.
Against betrayal, envy, desire and
Violent passions they run.
The rancor of a kind none has seen,
Might ruin everything into being.
Oh Lord! Put them out, of this dark
Miasma, to create a world never
Had been.
(July 4/5/6 2009)

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