PRISONER OF TIME 2 © 2008

The movements of the soul,

So delicate and subtle,

Mistakenly take refuge,

In the shadows fame speaks of.

They seek shelter in the cavern,

Where the gleam seems like gold,

But there, the essence hides,

And the true value loses its treasure.

Fame, with its seductive song,

Lures the soul into its labyrinth,

Where the echo of the clamour

Is empty, distant, and indistinct.

There, the movements once free,

Now become constrained,

Caught in invisible bonds,

Of expectations and sighs.

But the soul, in its nature,

Does not adapt to the gilded prison,

And even in fame, feels the sadness,

Of a freedom stolen.

Eventually, it realises the mistake,

And longs to escape the illusion,

To find the true ground,

Where it can move without restriction.

For the movements of the soul

Need space and truth,

And outside the cavern of fame,

They rediscover their authenticity.

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