A die cast on the promised call of fortune,
While still life awaits its fateful turn,
Tomorrow,it said that all will be done,
When the wheel spins it has finally nowhere to run.
Cant this man rest his eyes to watch above,
And must others hinder his fading question of love;
For what passes through everything in time,
Guide him the ladder that moves in every line.
Wife of man take not this stand,
The stage of humility that compassion tries to understand,
Despair of heights where morality may reach,
And open the doors that all men preach.
The serpents have waited for our future to learn,
What becomes of merciless giants that did walk and burn,
Carve this world of relentless stone,
Where these ladders rigid fall among their bones.
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