After time,
people will say,
in those years,
we lost the meaning of we,
we lost the sense of universality
found ourselves prisoners into ego,
in a long soliloquy
and the infinite life reduced to i,
war inside us,
we fight inside us,
the birds of prey scream
and their beaks hurt us
but through the fog, the stars,
the makers of wandering dream
with their accumulated wisdom
they’re sending us a mutiny message
go on and on the tragic crossing
the owl flies at night.