Natural
Each dawn he’d listen to the secret, ancient voice.
He’d lean out of the window to the deep Hellenic
summer. Rosy sky, purple houses, whitewashed sea.
Did the denial and pain truly exist? Serene world
slowly descends in front of a white vertical line
like in front of a new construction site, diaphanous
mark, a secured weight, straight vertical line on
a golden thread among the thousand chirps of
an invisible skylark and a dove.
Libros Libertad 