Darkling, I Listen
This is bleak but in beautiful translation
From infinity, to the pen, to the mouth
I sing for the undertow
Darkling, I listen to its crash upon my shore
These scars are but memories to cherish
Promises carved into a chasm wall
I remain hidden inside their words
Composed like bronze
I bend a knee
Before the sun that dives in the sea
When I die, fling my ashes high
For the wind to disperse
All my intentions remain ethereal
All my dreams impossible
Save the ones I lived
When I die, fling my ashes to the wind
Writer/s: The Black Atlantic
