Stranger, what is the name I'd call you
by in a dream of a foreign world?
you might be just one of the passing soldiers
warming your hands from a hungry cold
one of the mercenaries free for hire
though at what price is not mine to tell
your eyes are wide, and what they see is fire
to ever quench it there is no well.
What is your essence, a name to master
the whirl of splinters and shattered rock?
you step on bodies, yet your sword is rusty
your unlived lives are all there to mock
you march through canvases thinly woven
no portrait smudged is to be your guide
no need for names, what you'd use is stolen
a true one's precious on the dreamy side.
Head on to stars, blessed by Mother-Fortune
No wonder yours is a restless fate
So much to taste before a name has caught you
Between a closed and an open Gate.
P.S. Happy birthday, bro