Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Becalmed


Evolution grows cold in its isolation
It follows now a retreat of fairness
There is no breath left
To let sail the ship of progress
We are moored in our regrets
Becalmed in the harbour of defeat
Furl the sails and drop the iron
There is no fair wind
To take us back out to sea
No more new worlds to inhabit
Save the ones we cannot reach