I'm going home,
a terrible festival of dead leaves,
the last shelter of trees that talk quietly among themselves,
as a refugee.
Hunger into madness,
shrinking forests,
thunder harsh and dry,
gleams and glooms.
I travel by your side,
you lead me through a dark hope,
hope beyond hope.
Waiting for someone to show me the way.
Through the waves and the barbed wire,
one of us is sobbing.
You and I will never see again.
Who knows when you'll be dead.
Lines I'm writing for the last time.
Nothing else
have I to give you,
but respect.
Farewell, proud world!
I'm going home,
a terrible festival of dead leaves,
the last shelter of trees that talk quietly among themselves,
as a refugee.
@jlregojo #RegEye
