I lay here watching Which layers are spinning... And what direction? My mind dissects the clouds Like a fog being burned by sunlight... During the late morning.
This pattern above me Rather pleasing... yet confusing... I'm on the right, I find it yielding left...
There's designs I can't name Animals I can make... Yet they all run away as I move And the clouds spin trails... Watching them evolve Like a lifelong time lapse.
The drawn up moisture.... The streams of steam condensed... Swirled and forged into cotton-like pillows of uncertainty. The colors are the Indicators of moods The light and mysterious White and normal Green and envious of the oncoming destruction Black and gray depicting ends of sunshine filled days...
The life underneath grows, quivers, and in series of decays... Some offer condensed clouds as flavored swirls in mugs... But I rather watch the ones that love Carrying wind and rain... Have swirls of their own and a Name.
Though subject of objections The will of nature has a forge... To churn this stream of water around Like spun sugars of cotton candy. Much like a carnival, life is a surprise An unyielding wild ride.
Directions are unclear If i will be here I have watched the life of The swirl in this giant mug Smack the coastlines with giant hugs... Some rough love...
Though oddity Have you seen what clouds can do When spun around oak trees?
I am a Hurricane Hugo  survivor. I enjoy weather and thunderstorms. Once I dreamt of being a meteorologist. There used to be a 100 year old oak tree outside my bedroom window. During the eye of the storm we notice the tree was turned. In fact you could see the disruption in the earth... as roots were twisted around and almost braided. The tree was uprooted and twisted like a tick... And survived for years after that storm. By far... the most interesting tree story I have.
He sleeps. An enigma, his life bereft - He lived then died once his angel had left. It happened as simply as anything might, As from day there follows the coming of night.
The poem at the end of my favourite book. Presumably co.mposed by Marius Pontmercy to honour the life of Jean Valjean. One day I hope to translate Les Miserables in full, until then, here's a very small section of it.
Dear Ernesto Hugo de Castro, Keep breathing and keep thinking, we'll remember that somewhere, along the lines, you were there, since you have something to gain.
I like reading your poems and poetry, I also like that you express yourself clearly, I also like that you know how life does hurts and I like your ruthful and inspiring works. I love knowing your writing and trueness, I also love how reaching perfection you do, and, last but not least, I also love you.
Thank you, Ernesto Hugo de Castro, for your poetry