A fever for words that conceals
ills and wounds of the soul .
Fathomless oceans swept away
by interior tornadoes ..
Ghosts masked in obscurity ,
swirling in the shades of the mind .
I\'m just random pilgrim ,
gathering conjugated shapes ,
whose genius is only his folly ...
My verbal mineral has a taste
of antique fresco
that wrinkle the affront of times...
Gallery of mumies in love
who lie to themselves .
Once ,a player in forbidden games
chases away by the first rain ...
The reality is but a tragic dissonance
in a mirror of false imaginary...
I see coming to me a lady in white
with the face of a queen of spell.
Sh\'ell initiate me into the ritual of death,
I\'ll be reborn in the moisture of her body,
sheltered by the tree of life .
Lost words regain meaning
the always will succeed the who knows ?
And tossed by the winds
they become lyre birds
in the inspired creation orchestra...