Once upon a tide ,
there was a rainy day
somewhere in hours
of november .
the lunar shadows ,
ferried the poets reveries
to his abode of immortality...
.......................................
The time of dreams ,
smile at its reflection
in the solar mirror of illusions.
feelings that beg for a gaze
that will forever preserve
a few tender soft relic of memory
beneath the unfatumable mourning
of the heavens ...
The years take on the dress of the seasons
and fancy of destiny ...
Oaths disguised as a fleeting eternity
slumbering in orgasmic marble..
Ecstasy only clothed with regrets ,
dissolved in the cold venom
of a dying passion ...
The angel of the last journey,
turns the page of the great book of dellusions.
Poet ,did you breathe solely
for that spectral inspiration ,
and solo drinking binges,
whose tomb ,never will ever flourish ?
Fragments of a rainy november day ,
swept away at the hour of the lords
by the lunar shadows ...