Owlets or Outlets?

from barn to bay
an outlet to our brain
everlasting peril and pain
my sleep will drain;

flee from the figth;
in a silent flight;
to recover the might;
no doubtful insight;

the first time
as scary as flight;
the truth is mine
might release your might...

glide with your wit
through the monsoon pit
where dreams are lit
and stars are still.

use YOUR feather.

The Lay of Ere (The White Story)

In the passage from ere
few there were
but amongst them,
were the gracious and grateful.

in a bay they were
all gathered, the four.
Fierce as the Sun,
he gave a bright roar;
Átika was the name he bore
in his face a black stain he wore.

Amongst the dark sky
there she was,
with her dark hide;
San was skylike
without knowing why,
she was brought in the night;

The third frizzy and mellow
was in fact a bright fellow
loved the meadows,
but lived for the barrows,
old and merry was Fowx;
and a little bit yellow;

Into the water they lean,
to remember a dream
of something before seen...

that was all;
which was known

The White Story - Beginning

from the inocent jungle
trying to live there, they gambled
until she made it enable
for them to explore a new angle.

She, the youngest of five
growing was a strife
but she still might;
be the end of such night.

Called by her birth date
The Youngest Daughter she was named
a delicate damsel and a fierce maiden
her fame chased her.

glorious for battles won
her father's kingdom;
was again strong
but her thirst went on.

winter came and so did the logs
crackling fire, and barking dogs

She was one with an unusual gift
dressed by the snow, a white glow lit
to her warm body the snow sticks
and a white robe comes from it.

Amazed they were
and some remembered a passage;
from ere...

alleyway

I heard it from the alley
like a soft whining...
there, was a creature lying

the wind was howling
the sky was crying
thougts flying

I try to contain the loss
but, i am no longer boss
I'm flying like a moth

knowledge by the drop
and information simular to cloth
thin and knotted
almost impossible to be spotted

through me the essence flows
to little I can withhold
confusion now has its abode
and we must rely on the bold.

because the weak will fall;
into deceit.
and after it all;
will be a clean sheet.
it is our own fault;
when bottom we reach...

like the creature we will screech.

Owner of Freedom

during the path to your vision
wandering is a violation
upon this transition
demanding all your wisdom
try to reason
with the ruler of our freedom

in a constant battle such foe
is unbearable
miles unraveled
of unwritten battles.

but only he can delve them
meddle and change them
build or waste them
but you, only taste'em

its eyes are calm
his soul is raw
her body with no flaw
its mind no one saw...

an architect he was wrought
by hands of longer thoughts
his art no one taught
and wroth,
no more.

Mundo Velho

um pequeno encanto, em um canto guardado
anos encoberto, mas sempre procurado
um mundo aberto, de lado a lado
muitos chegam, pelo caminho forçado
outros amam e jamais são levados

crianças sonham, e vivem por la
adultos esquecem e jamais tentam voltar
a criança em um adulto saberá
até onde ir e quando retornar...

tal mundo existe
e você está livre
para com sua mente voar
e o seu mundo
desenhar.