In times of pure disgrace
And unthoughtful actions
Of premier falling leaves
That have forgotten to shed themselves
Off the branches of prestige
Only found
In trees preserved in nature’s embrace
In circles and riddles, they still run
In times of perpetual repetitions
Clouds will always be falling
Into the vortex of eternal cloves
Entailed in gloves of wooden hugs
That pretentious shall not be as such
Courage and kindness
Are deemed to be found
In circles and riddles, they still run
In times of eternal love repentance
Breaths combined as one
Shoveling and digging carpets
Looking for flying beverage spots
In discourse nights of severance
And a brief exhilaration of human touch
Hollow bodies walking under the scorching sun
In circles and riddles, they still run
In times of a mesmerizing eyesight
Holding hands under Athenian artifacts of sunlight
We will always be making amends
Trying to see the light shed on the opposite side
With hopeful breaths of an immature clown-like manliness
Outgrowing its welcome
Re-evaluated senses and distorted sensibilities
In circles and riddles, they still run
In times of inconsistent spreads of mediocre selections
Words and gestures eaten by termites and crawlies
Comprising orange and crimson intestines of hate
I played my instrument in the garden of your fixation
And thorough sorrow sought out in a fleeting kiss
When temperatures became unpredictable
Perplexing willow leaves
In circles and riddles, they still run
In times of a world full of swirls
On imbalanced scales
Where people, technology and industry collide
Trying to get some common ground
That no longer feels alive
Since nutrients and purity of heart
Have gone missing
In circles and riddles, they still run
In times of dirty steep hilltops and rusty rain
And underground realms of misery
As oppression still remains
As people tend to obey
As oxygen is being transformed
Into a commodity of complete deprivation
Courage and kindness are yet to be found
In circles and riddles, they still run.
Χριστίνα Εικοσιπεντάρχου
