Age of Miracles
We all look solid-built enough,
No one who looks can look through us,
We are not paper, stone and rough,
Two-legged walls we seem by guess
And yet there is a wind that blows
From far, the farthest far away
That only someone frail can know
And only someone small can say
Walk out some evening when the sky
Is clear as if the wind had wiped
The lens of it away, deny
That something blows through you that night
A wind that blows away deception,
That is why He said that truth
Will soon be shouted from the rooftops,
Print of pity, pain of wrath
Read it in a book of glass
The letters printed by the sun,
And then the age of death will pass,
The age of miracles begun
Pavel
June 19, 2011
