Ahead of the poem I wrote with solitude. It rests in the eye of a useless man. The victory that the world awaits. Infinite absence sinks in distant. The melody echoes and cleanses the earth.
A wish upon the moon. A chain to the ankle. Freedom to the words. An oath to the sky. Gratitude to the pain. A light to the eyes. A look to my fingers. A conversation to the beauty. The contradiction hates the strenght to leap. These hollow hands describe my dream.
A thread leads the smoke of truths. Rain at night and the great hope. Temptation of ambition befalls. I endure the weight on my back. Blazing road and a blue window. A moment before the near sleep.
At night all seasons open and change. Beatings meet and engrave a smile. Letters of the myth I seek are blurred.
A life reflects on the morning water. The look of the eyes I can still see. A road of winds that the passed water builds. Stars flickering in the quiet afterimage.
Red night disappears. The sleepless reward arrives. Shine, you movers. Sparkle, you movers.