Like a play that posed drama of a full moon and dark glory on my skin,
I opened my hands in the middle of the day towards the valley of hope ...
Of whose wait towards me delegated by your silent coming where there was nothing,
Sometimes it seems to be collective strength from one to the whole but with nothing,
I only know that when I walk I feel your scent running in my footsteps ...

Like a work that I carried in my forest where nothing fit,
Just a new species that knew nothing about Wind or Rain.

Feet to stumble as tripartition:
- Of my few wings for airs to whisper to you like purposely agony,
- of my fragility of staying alive for love without sacrificing anything
- And not reaching the train as my heart takes without being able to do anything ...

When I look at the absent gleams of your company I celebrate living a fuller second of Life that pretends to be a count before sleeping without a second more to count new shines in the opaque gray that walks to be new light of me.

But I fall asleep awake and I feel again the warm cold that falls on my eyelids sleeping as if I were a timid Lily with the term of advancing the devotion of the flowers to your hands on my lips in the morning to receive your Life more than a Life in thousands of forms of your gaze.

I want to run as a gift that runs falling with content moaning that flattered your empire cuts my fingers more than my words without having drama of the edge of the sigh that more than Spring winter is reborn from the chalice of the soft corridors of the forests in games on our Choppy phrases without saying that the party of living will have no limit of guests among flowers, animals and their entire creation of beautiful without being punished by whoever wants to challenge for valleys and mountains, but who knows to repair the memory of those who did not, or who felt it ...

I would like to embrace your shadow and fall together on the shadows of the shadows of our sleepless nights ... thinking that you were already, even being on the threshold of the loneliness of terror of having conquered the single life without the life that frightens those who die in their arms asleep.

What is the smile but has sadness in each sound of your joy,
How I use each arm of my conscience and will if I wish to have the will of the thunder clamoring for you, losing yourself along the banks of the flash, smiling with the same joy of singing forever your Life in every gregarious indigo moment, confusing you with the eternal rest of my on sense of knees in my infra sense.

We will lean our worshiped heads on the sacred forest in strife
And of the multitude of sacred noises watching us envious of how we continue to love to spill on their dry leaves the spilled liquids of our scattered and torn courtship.

Rainy I love you Rainy Sphinx of Water, I believe and pray that your Snow - Water Crown will never dry!

I was always with you,
You walked and I gathered the petals as servile company that adores your footsteps in Eden by refusing to withdraw from Him ...

Delight in the mysteries of beginning to walk with my hands out of the sky, Or with my feet in the wakefulness of not sleeping thinking of you closer than I think to be measured by the greatest wakefulness ...
Dancing under the private pendulum of you and my scent flower that roar from Heaven to come closer to my arms and know more about you for when you are not there if I have to forget it so as not to suffer the drama of your hand and your hand next to mine flower next to yours even under the worst hell ...