Night in a rustle entwined
in an uncommon surreal way
the dawn and the moon counterclockwise.
Overthrow under the shadow
over a riverbed of illusions
a beat of violetblue dreams of thoughts,
who crave a future of crimson spectre
full of glint and ragweed.
Your lips falls under the light of my memory
as words bounded by silences
said beyond what they have named.
I find you hanging at
the corners of my mind,
flits in rhymes and poems
wedging an infringe token...
We are the past of a future
from today in the distance
emerged from rubble and
conquered performances.
At the aurora of the storm,
tremor of the wind
and the glow of thunder,
shines in time a wish
sailing through space with
golden reflection of the fields,
while the leaves of grass
bloom spontaneous
in a natural flow of the sense.
Strong tied one by one the events
while continuum takes us bow
natural and suddenly.
It's hard to believe what this is
despite the few hours and
the distance in between.
So it will be in the winter,
the heat of the flames of your soul
and my desires wrap in every hall,
honey runs through the grass wandering
in deviant yards in ghosts.
Winter will off hook the soft stars
that shine in the sky,
will take from my womb their whims
disguised as mermaids
on a sward of miles
innocent walked.
You will be my night.
I will be your day.
Just then will know
we have come to motherland.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario