To my Idol

What if in world,

I was true?

To me you were a pure soul,

If only I be a bit more like you,

And it's me that I speak from,

Not the outside world view,

What if I was only true?

Would life be different?

Or maybe it wouldn't,

Would I see things different?

From this view, I should.

Would I be confined,

To the rhythms of thy flute?

Oh what if oh what if,

I was only true?

And to love I not speak to,

But to you I do.

Far more than I should,

If I only could be a bit like you.

Tall to the tallest,

Wise to the wisest,

And the center of envy

To those righteous,

Oh dear sir, if only I could be like you.

Would I be able to lead?

Would I be able to speak?

Would I be able to tell the tale of thy feats?

Whatever be it sir.

I only wish, that I could be more like you.

But I know I shan't,

But I know I would try,

For a wish in a well,

Is harder to go by.

And I know I won't,

No matter how much I try,

I will never be able to see

The world, in the way you do.

May God forbid,

The tales that I sing,

For no matter what I forgive,

I can't change the way I have been.

And to the second fold of time,

As history did unwind,

I am but a speck of time,

In the beaches where the heavens dine.

Sir, our paths seem similar,

But to me yours was greater.

And whatever may be this nonsense of an age,

I tell thee the times though have changed,

The people that stay, have remained the same.

And to my grief, I conclude thee a letter,

To which I am too late to write,

As thee can't read it,

And it shall buried forever,

Into the sands of time.

Too late sir,

Too late I report,

And if sir you had read this,

I am sure you would have smiled,

Even under that cold stone,

Turning the whole world blind,

Beneath that cold stone sir,

There you lay,

And Gaia that first embraced thee

Though has turned seventy

It still blushes, as it holds thee divine.

So much so that the world is inclined,

To move slower

In the strange void of time.

~The Dead Revolutionary