he thought he did
what he had to do
and did everything his way
he prepared some freedom
for all of you
and some steps to walk each day
when people came
to shoot him down
he would never leave his place
he did his part
and he stood his ground
for whatever he had to face
late august it was
his final hour
where he had no other chance
he gave his life
and he left his power
to those he freed in advance
© 2012
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Archives
You see, here you'll find poems and prose of opportunity and seasons. They're ours, though, so we have to protect them. Respect! Thank you!
Readers are welcome! If you are willing to follow the iconian path, you should know that it is always you we are talking to, even if it is not. And that everything is true, even if it is not. We all are eternally united in the last space possible where even the impossible is real. We ought to believe the foretold: If we'll meet tomorrow, next year, or never, it doesn't matter, it's only time! And everything, even time is fiction.
By the way, typos and other mistakes - we know there are many. If you can be bothered, please let us know. Thank you! And for any legal issues, please contact us before we have to tell you that we're skinned. But you can also write, of course, if you like what you read. Please, write to the webmaster.
