Death to be born wise

I found you when you become wise:
Take the silver and touch the bright midnight
Touch in the eyes and blind all of us.
My mystery is not the light.

The dream was born for night mother
I want to know how the lord is
Who created the sun, the river?
My discovery is my ambition.

I became powerful without the sky
My hell is my word
My word is my god
And my interior god helps me to be invincible
I can win the most gladiator of the Roman Empire
My hate is my poem.

I am the ghost poetry
I am the death poet
I know what you want
I know your fear
I am nothing
I am everything.