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Standing on an endless- motion field;

I abide the hour,
In which the Old Mother will
Break free,
From her melancholy;

How many tears has she cried,
While seeing her children,
Running blind,
Through the Forest,
Of the Wild!

How many kisses has she spread,
For new heroes to come,
While the old ones remain slothful,
And lack all kind,
Of warlike honor!

Patience is a lullaby,
Among white souls,

In which my time holds every minute,
To disappear among blue roses,

For everyday,
A new life is born,
To take shape,
In everyone's legs.
May the dance keep moving,
For endless pleasure flows,
In the gain of Wisdom!

On a smiling air's caress,
Sweaty bodies display their love,

And the song they perform is,
The hymn to a Goddess,
Giving birth,
On their skins,

May Selfishness not interfere,
In such process of being shaped;

May Laugh smooth,
Such a mystery of Intimacy,

For Human Spirit gets,
Its true appearance when,
It builds a Temple,
In a four-wall bedroom;

So may the Instinct awake,
In the ritual
Of a red shade!
Dante Fernando Nov 2018
Let the mystery dance,
At the top of your breast!

Whereas the angels roar,
And the cross leans on your soul!

Let the moon awake,
On you head!

Whereas your eyes glow,
And your skin shapes your sword!

Even the slightest needle would
Go across your fingers,
And write a prophecy,
On the walls of your bedroom,

In which no disciple will blaspheme,
To the storm;

May Temptation be your servant when,
Every day becomes red;

May your tears be your salvation when,
Every song gets,
Your priesthood's grace,

For a caress cannot be revealed,
If it does not cleanse,
The wind's dirt!
Dante Fernando Nov 2018
Not a black hole,
But a horn will
Fulfill my oath,
Along this scorching road;

Inspired by such carefree eyes,
I arise my voice,
Through a silence that'll
Set free my word,
Across this colorful sea;

How many times do we
Strike to follow,
Such a promised land,
That is still afar?

How many time do we
Break our spine,
To get such a reward,
That's never enough?

Is it possible to look
Inside of us,
And find such a key,
That will open,
The gates of our treasure?

So peacefully, the life goes on,
Awaiting for someone to awake,
To their true fate;

So calmly, the hours pass on,
Whereas every minute symbolizes,
Everyone's desire;

In which no more tears are able,
To be wept,

And a laugh & a song are willing,
To console,
A grievous thorn.
Dante Fernando Aug 2018
I let myself sway,
On your steps,
In which your eyes reveal
My life without fatigue;

Sweat & blood mark
Our survival’s story,
In which a smile can
Relieve us,
From such a mournful glory;

No one can give up a bone when,
Her world needs,
To get nourished;

Broken words emulate
A future’s tear,
Which is about
To become,
A shadow’s nurturer;

I will not give in;
I will not let my hand sleep,
In a numbness without a dream;

From the sunlight,
I hear your voice claiming
For another shift,
In which your feet and mine could
Cross each other,
And dance a golden sea’s melody,
We’ll always hope,
To find out;

From the silence,
I dream of your breath whispering
For a miracle,
In which your fate could
Unmask such a hidden love,
Which has been forgotten
For a long while,
And build a path,
You will never go back;

Strength & patience manifest,
The Eternity in one minute,
Whereas Good & Evil find themselves as lovers,

Let Emptiness smooth your sores;
Let the water refresh such a shady throat.
Dante Fernando Jul 2018
A myriad of dreams flows,
Upon my future,

But I’m still reluctant,
To take such a prize,
That has been set up;

Is it such a resistance,
To acknowledge my true self,
I would rather hide
In my sloth?

Is it such a pressure,
To get it all done that,
I know not when,
Will it be the next post?

What my body can conceal is,
The present of a dreadful night,

In which,
Purple ghosts gamble
On my room’s table,
And figure out what task would
Come next;

My sweat is of a thirsty worker,
Whose hands compress,
The labor of a better life,

In which,
Salt & water give birth
Another minute for,
A nostalgia,
That is written
On a dusty scroll;

Yet God remains on his Throne,
Expecting me to find,
The key of the Light;

He longs to make some music thereof,
If he could dance,
Everyone would be a believer.
Dante Fernando Jul 2018
It’s a dark sign that,
Your eyes draw a breeze,
Which is encircled
In the spasm,
Of my wrath;

It’s a dark sign that,
Your body makes my blood dance,
In the middle,
Of a volcanic torrent;

Faith & Desire cover up my flesh,
And nine-inch nails caress my face,
Whereas Time & Dust are never enough
To fill up such a Blast;

Despite of we are strangers,
To each other;

I’m still being the Storm,
That arises The New Sun,

Whereas thistles & wires will
Never set on
My footstool;

Despite of your image reflects
The absinthe,
In which,
My soul gets his thirst satisfied;

I’m still being the Thunder,
That gets rid of any appearance,

Whereas mud & ashes are
The final result,
Of your assault;

Backbones crawl
Over shallow waters,
And feel a bit of humanity,
By kissing each other,
As slow as they can;

Just a smile of mine can
Reveal such a red Truth,
On the left side!
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