jurisprudent
03-06-2011, 05:42 AM
On this Sunday
When I contemplate on myself
Under the waves lulling life and time
My breath is already out
And I am standing on this Sunday
Past the Friday full of ashes
And before the recurring wheel of the Monday,
Life is dragging,
The ship wrecked on the rocks of Ithaca
And the hope
That was there on the far horizon,
The flickering whirlwind of sand
Rising to the heavens, sucking the lifeblood of lazy clouds,
And this whirlwind, I thought,
Will grab me, embrace me, thrill me, kiss me,
And lift me to God’s throne above.
Now, on this Sunday of Life,
Sitting on the rocks among my poor ship’s beams
Shattered, scattered all around,
I think,
I would say,
My Sunday is the end of my week,
Of my time,
Of all there is.
When I contemplate on myself
Under the waves lulling life and time
My breath is already out
And I am standing on this Sunday
Past the Friday full of ashes
And before the recurring wheel of the Monday,
Life is dragging,
The ship wrecked on the rocks of Ithaca
And the hope
That was there on the far horizon,
The flickering whirlwind of sand
Rising to the heavens, sucking the lifeblood of lazy clouds,
And this whirlwind, I thought,
Will grab me, embrace me, thrill me, kiss me,
And lift me to God’s throne above.
Now, on this Sunday of Life,
Sitting on the rocks among my poor ship’s beams
Shattered, scattered all around,
I think,
I would say,
My Sunday is the end of my week,
Of my time,
Of all there is.