Looking at the blue moon
to become deeply sad,
to be true or not to
be true to oneself.

You were always at
a distance, untouched,
unkissed. I was very
reticent to tell about my odyssey.

How not to understand
myself, remaining
voiced in my verses to reach
obsessively at apotheosis.

And then to fall at
inviting earth as dust
meeting the dust, reaching
my abandoned home.