IV
The green month of hope anticipates
the tiny gleaming candle
like a sleepless night yearning
for dawn in the darkness of the universe.
The melancholy light of a beacon
and the faint breeze morphs a path
when the cutest mother termite
with her everlasting dewdrop
with her flickering lantern comes forth
in the misery of the cosmos.
He stands close to her
with all his armory outside
duty written on his skin
composure displayed on his face.
A giant amongst his peers.
A sequoia in the forest.
The biggest of the big.
The smallest of the small
who almost always
carry the heaviest burden.
They both crawl on all limbs
upholding like a torch
smallest pot containing one drop.
Libros Libertad 