The Circle Of My Abreast

I close my eyes,
and immerse myself in my parallel thoughts,

traveling freely in the ownerless time,

on the magical carpet of my memories,

in company of my mysterious chest,

where I know that the threads,

that hold my feelings are kept.

On a curious cloud colored by the calm of silence,

I rest the magical carpet of my memories,

to open and discover the threads,     

that sustain my Preserved feelings.

I open my mysterious chest,

and sparkles of crystals in all colors shine on my face,

and I can see in each one of them,

reflections of a luminous angel,

and reflections of a monster obsessed,

I can see tears of pain raining down on the plains of my guilt,

and I can see my heart jumping, enjoying my naive innocence.

I can see on the walls of my mysterious chest,

wings full of energy of night and day,

spreading incense in melody,

which resonates in the center of my courage and my cowardice.

In the breath of my sublime dreams of love,

and in the breath of my harsh dreams of pain,

I discover that those threads are unbreakable bridges balanced in the void,

and are extinguished sources to tempt the challenge,

between a burning ground and a celestial sky.

I open my eyes,                                                   and believe in the fantasy of my mysterious chest,

and I feel in the reality of the mysterious center in the impetuous circle of my Abreast.