A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008
One must be cursed
To be the outcast conductor
Who only feels the heart of granite.
When someone tells him that love
Is a different way of saying:
The universe is splendid and beautiful.
But the conductor, with vacant gaze,
Sees in beauty only cold,
For the splendour that is told to him
Does not break the shadowy cloak
That in his chest remains upheld.
And while the world sings of light,
He walks in the shadow of the rite,
Indifferent to the truth that shines,
Bearing the soul of a myth
That has forgotten what entices.
Perhaps one day, amid the silence,
The stone will yield to the echo of emotion,
And the granite heart, without a handkerchief,
Will feel the warmth of a new song.