Trajedy befalls the poet

Tragedy befalls the poet

from the shores of boredom,
to the mountains that are made of diamonds,
mystic journeys lead me here,

In the land where the dragons come to feed on my heart in waking hours,

I refuse to die in vain,

She came then left me with memories,
My dungeon now cold as stares,

kissing angels in the stone garden,

tonite,oh!
tonite!

tonite we whisper in sadness...

Now she becomes a poem i shall read to another.