In the dark maze of the night, I feel alone and without direction, looking for my light among the shades that hold me with their oppression. The moon is a white sore that bleeds over my way; its light grazes me, but does not adore me, it is cold, distant and without sway. The full moon is my mute witness of my pain and my uncertain fate; it keeps glowing, like a distant bliss, but it cannot give me warmth or state. In the lake of my bright dreams, my reflection is drawn without identity. I am a shadow of long streams that looks at itself in the mirror of vanity. Who am I in this careless world? What sense does my wandering course hold? Where is my light that I crave so bold? How can I find my shining gold? I do not give up, nor do I yield to dismay; I keep looking for that spark, my ray, the one that burns in my chest, my heart, and gives me life, gives me strength and art. And then I go on with more bravery, knowing that one day I will find what I crave.