In the lighthouse's room, the world is different
and the axioms and worldviews change:
there, children go and return as old men,
working hard overtime in solitude.
During the day, thoughts drown in the sea's mouth,
filtered in the abyss and coming out of the gills.
At night, they are confined within the lantern's chamber,
sliding from its sparks onto the sharp rocks.
Earlier than dusk, the tobacco pouch empties,
And the players gather like fish in the ashtray,
Tears drip on the wall – it is not the Platytera –
and the towers slide on the slippery chessboard.
Full of emotions, the glass tumbler,
Loves overflow, drowned by obstinacy.
The most frequent escape: the same little window,
With a view always different, depending on the prism.
The guard is a prisoner in complete freedom,
fatefully contemplating if it was his destiny,
if the profession was the best opportunity,
to search within to find himself.
9 Coins
To earn Skroutz Coins, join Skroutz Plus and accept the terms of the reward program.
