With cinco luka
Mind lost in it's
Sisyphean peregrinations
On another lost theme
Too many to count yet
In your streets
Dimly lit as I sought
Through my warped eye
Magic
Beginnings and ends
To me all the same
Wanderer as I belong
To the lost cult of
Some long time
And now disregarded sect
The human race
Born free to discover
You gave me pride
Talent and an iron will
To use to no end
Yet I progress
Never learning
Nostalgia taunting
Beyond all limitations
To only wake by her side
Those curves
Emitting all to which
I subscribe