Apropos all that greedy feelings that brought sorrows to so many and their Nation to her knees.
Apropos responsibility, accountability, crime and punishment, being for capricious loopholes above the Law that apply to the rest of us.
Man, for thirty pieces of silver more, are asking without shame or repentance, a piece of the last bite of bread hold by an hungry child.

Trees shedding its last bits of brown skin,
dead leafs falling down covering the ice,
with the first tickling cold kiss of a winter
traveling on tiptoes down your warm spine.

Man in an empty, cold and dark cathedral
feels like what felt a small grain of sand,
all alone on a flat expanse or naked rock
surrounded by walls that are mountain high.

Imagine, lost away in the heart of a forest
looking for a door to escape is a child,
suppose it's your soul instead that's opening
a door...to another more darker night.

Winter's coming and the company
of summer laugh echoes went away,
then we were alone but didn't felt that alone,
because open for a little of love was our heart.

Cold assaulted us, can't stop the shivering,
as we dream of getting a little warm,
it's not the season's cold that make us tremble,
but the cold feelings coming from winter's man.

Some of us are like the trees peeling off
pieces of pain that falls down over our past,
no doors among us in the darkest forest
for you to open, escape and be again alive.

I have my own cavernous and empty cathedral,
to make me feel as little as a grain of sand,
I sit on a back pew trying to chase away silences
with the rasping voice of my pen...as I write.