A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008

My face will be recorded

In a hall of fame without a frame,

Where what matters will be engraved,

Eternized in a pure expression.

In memory will remain the recollection,

An inert photograph weeping,

For the lack of more emotion,

That life stubbornly refused to leave.

And those who wish to leave, let them go,

Everything, except the greatness

That made me full of illusion,

Sustaining what the soul shares.

And those who wish, let them be sated,

Everything, except the sadness

That made my heart alive,

In a pulse that time separates.

And what matters is the soul,

Not made of sawdust,

That the wind of fame scatters,

But of a truth that endures.

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