The day advances,
Goes round and retreats
Arriving infinitely:
The calm of a poet does
Not exist,
The words appear with urgency
Behind a chaos of thoughts
Flowing like water,
Spilling the prophecy of no one.
The journey is the density
Of humanity whose misery
Shines with brilliance like
A moon full of itself,
They go appearing and disappearing
Like happiness under shadow,
They make no presence except
Being in the moment,
Even now there is a drunk
Homeless man singing under
Shade of life's tree;
Life's tree which branches
To find the light in the darkness,
Which spews seeds of hope
Filling the abyss,
The same skies which petrify
The man in the repetitions of
Days , the days of sorrow,
The days of light, the days
Of moments, under the same sun.
I journey through the minds
In galleries of people that resonate
Understanding, words that heal,
Words that begin and words
Making all transparent,
We have become mirrors that falter
Within the self ,dissolving dreams.
I go within my eyes,
Eyes that remember a river
Of bodies that flowed into a
Lake of my touch, passionate waters
Celebrated in a mystery of lust,
The looks of your eyes reflect
All that is real, you are a memory
Distinguished like cherries,
Red like a falling sun,
You are the edict of magical
Thoughts on the Autumnal night
We wore the colors of our desires;
I tear myself apart
To make naked thoughts come to
Life, among all the waters,
Among all the fires, like a bird
With wings of fire burning
The air I breathe, I conquest my
Dreams, fulfilled by words;
The words fateful and careful,
A harvest of pain,
A field of sorrow,
All that makes sense,
I go upon them as if
Leaving my body to the moon
Imagining better, better, better,
The words shower like rain
And the liquid runs deep into
The thirst, being born, they make
All that was, they make all that
Hopes to be and fills the skies
With wishful stars shedding life
Upon itself.
I come face to face with myself,
Poet whose passion is deeper
Than his talent, whose words echo
Like repetitions of poets past,
They are all i have, all i need ,
I write alone, no one is here,
The day ends, the light ends:
The night advances
Goes round and retreats
Arriving infinitely.
This is poetry in my life.