Still kid, I wore the masks of my book heroes,
unable to take the difference for real,
Whatever role I played, I felt I’m zero,  
Compared to the idol of the realm.

I tried to be a bard, a fool, a preacher,  
A master of the alchemy of words.  
Before I learned that God’s my only teacher,  
I tried all and found that I’m not worth.

But since I learned that I don’t fit their stories,  
I want to be myself, and yet, the Whole,  
My idols broke apart and all their glories  
Turned out to be just shards of my own soul.

Not a hero, not a doll,  
Not a wanna-be-them-all,  
Just a body chasing soul,  
making verses in freefall.

All heroes done,  what’s left is I and God,
all corners of the  Earth we vagabond,
we sing for bread, and, getting older,
more often lean on other’s shoulder,
more often cry on other’s shoulder,
some day we’ll die on other’s shoulder,
we’ll lie in earth, still touching shoulders,
and then we’ll rise…
we’ll truly rise…m
we’ll rise to pat each other’s shoulder!