Glancing icy eyes, and bright
Hugging the horizon with a blink
When the stars light up
Here comes the night
And every sky corner leaves the pink
To come up with a dark light.
Drinking wine from my glass cup
I want to tell a story if I might.
All began with a trembling pyre
So alive it had a world inside
And that world was ours!
You can stare at your life ride
As you were part of a nice story
Just like a romance written in the fire
and nothing more than burning glory.
Who looked for it was a kind of god
The god shivered cause he thought
He could bring life and death
But the fire burned everything
The God himself and all the living
The whole nature obliterated
And then again came back to breath
I was watching the fire
Which ate humans and gods
You can call me Master of Being
But my name is creative skill
Born and raised from a fire ring
Now free to dominate the will
And tell stories
About births, death and other stories
About me and the illusion of men:
about men and the illusion of me,
which as soon as I create a world
I just vanish in a dot.