How do we know if love has yet touched?
If words can’t convey its inner most warmth;
Whose glow overwhelms the saddened lone heart;
And makes it as young as that of our birth.
How do we know if it will be true?
When world’s accept passions in its fine place;
And know not of peace freely bestowed;
On physical beings and their spiritual space.
Will flaws such as these always but rise?
And taint the fair souls of flowing clear hope;
As the serpent had done in times of once old;
Where loss was first touched, in our oneness to cope.
It need not be as many believe;
For the rainbow still lives in the mists of the fall;
And dreams do come true in the depths of our eyes;
As do wishes exist when our smiling does call.
Audio Version (To Be Added)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1988
(11th poem written in 1988 – exact date of writing unknown)