I would like to introduce you to the one who made mysticism my obsessive eternal quest. Nostradamus is renown for his prophecies, but frankly speaking I have never understood any of it. Everything about his predictions seems all so nebulous, that is what I have tried to incur in the words I have written here. If prophets really existed, I guess that half of the world would have been solved in advanced . . .
So, it is not an homage to his famous prophecies, but it is much more a eulogy to the mystic that he was.
Far away you saw up to the sky
With voices murmuring inside of your ears
Tell me . . . those secrets are too detailed!
They should have been said when the rain came from the soil,
Or even when the day was to nebulous for you to see.
And the secrets to be in the future,
Never to abide in the present.
Dear great seer, things flaunts and flows,
And here we are at the edge of reasons and logic,
But to say the truth, those secrets are too detailed,
For they come in cryptography and unclear fiction.
Say to me again . . . prophets don’t apologise to the mass,
Mystics take all on them and shut up their mouth.