I plead, I pray, I sway, I swear,
I remind that time, those with innocence.
I know for all, to whom I belong,
I think I have made a do!
In the neverlands of my traditions,
No one taught, no one is motivated.
There were powers, who growled me mine,
There were minds that allowed me mine.
In the rounds and rounds of visions,
Poetic doors are wide opened drizzles.
Some spiral, some clusters of mine are due,
Beyond moderation, some rains are due.
And for those who complete themselves,
The fortress of mine still finds a room.