III. Wanderers
March 14, 2025 at 5:31 AM
Two solitary, lost wanderers
From Venus or, maybe, Mars.
Not caring about anything,
Anything, except their guitars.
Tired of roam through cold space
With home unacceptably far,
They stayed on our planet awhile
To cure their deep, aching scars.
Surely they have seen God,
And, I think, died at least once.
Caring our sorrows and bitterness
They still decided to dance.
And when the end will come,
On debris of this world small
Together they will silently watch
How stars will loudly fall.