Wandering Flame
What goes up in the air
that needs the dreams inside him
life rises from the spore of silence
the man of God is an escapee of the breeze
universal note
on an imaginary voyage
What goes in the water and
the flow that carries the light
minimal nothing of recycled Eros
day by day I grow old in my youth
I come and no one remembers me
I don’t have answers or names, only an echo
We live in a migrating cosmos
we play at the park alone
and carefree with the seasons
from the roadblocks of the heart
Libros Libertad 