Before my gaze touches the horizon,
I open my ears to let whispers in
that will take me away from heavy paths.
I hover above the wooden floor,
I open my chest to breathe
into my tired lungs
a little light,
scattered in the velvet, quiet night.
Outside, the dust of farewells
lingers softly, without a sudden rush;
inside, a calm sits
surprised by its own softness.
Tomorrow I will carve
another piece of frenetic life,
not regretting kisses lost in haste,
nor wrong steps in the restless dance,
tasting the smallest moments
with the flavor of ash and sweet oranges.
I stumbled over thresholds,
but this time I will walk more firmly,
not too fast
to see myself in the first person.