I see in my dream the messiah's coming!
I see the messiah's coming!
I see his face through the trail of all the injustice,
from all the traffics of spites and malice,
floating up the canvass of our time
and sways in and out of all the pictures
and all the mirrors,
framing the mood of these walls.
I see him on my desk
arranging the lank mould of my papers.
I see him in any words
that settles in the saddle of my pen.
I see him in any seed,
excavating towards light,
in all the tears
in all the waters, all the clouds, all the rivers
mining in the flesh of my chest
and rocking
the limpid cradle of my eyes.
I see him like a spark
from each stoning fists
into the face of innocence,
starting the furnace of inferno.
I see him in each sap of decency
that spills
in the hand of deceptions,
in any right that rushing hours
of inhuman hordes
have trampled.
I see him mounting in the mirrors
versus the diurnal replicate remain of deceits!.
I see him like passionflower
against the soil of apathies.
I see him in any hand
spouting out of the hearts,
Beseeching to the skies for mercy.
I see him in any branches
stretching and greening for pardon,
in any screaming and crying
of these wooden arms
reaching and pleading for mercy of freedom!
