"Science and art are like arms and heart. So many accidents of meaning, art is in heart, and so is hear, ear, art as a form of heart hearing."
Michael Eigen

I didn't want to open that door
nevertheless life did it for me
residues of this old combustion
pits of rage you're carring
for their perfumed names
humiliation at every corner of the street
suspicion of the sunrise

I remember or maybe I dreamt it
two sons looking for their father
he chose other walls full of zest
holy days were a laughter
indiference for the son rise

how chalenging to be a man hiding vulnerability
there was no one to show you how to
keep the balance of seeing and feeling and forgetting
there was no one to show me my edges
for good Gods to dwell and feast on life unhindered