this is a cloud,fulfilment will make the rain

when the stars in the firmaments no longer sing the state of my mind,
in it's beautiful melody of love, dream, and fear,
i shall humm and make the inaudible be heard.

stomp our feet for the world to stop,
get on with the stampedes of the tiniest creatures on earth,
turn the clock back at one.

the very first touch should be the second to flaunt it,
an act of impudency should be a form of art,
mastered,sealed,
for my death will be a form of assassination.

this is not an impeccable introspection,
nor it is a contemplation of one-self,
contrary to your thoughts,

this is a promise.