Santiago
Scattered folded papers,
Words scratched or erased,
Abandoned stories,
Forgotten whispers,
Faded memories.
The pen flies,
The ink flows,
Encore.
Beyond these nameless poems
Of these disordered stapled pages
Of this naked book without its back cover
Will you turn back to me?
What about Magellan?
Being hungry.
Break through this wall, go west.
Put one foot in the sea, the other in Tenerife.
Then being thirst.
Jump into the oasis with both feet, splash the dunes.
Dip your feet in the ocean, the head in the stars.
From Earth to Earth
Harmony knows that a wave will eventually crash on the rock
Harmony knows that a wave will embrace this rock
No line on the horizon
It was day, or perhaps night.
The breath of desire, or an accomplished sigh.
The kiss until Morpheus, or the first caress of the morning.
A cry, a silence, an echo that carries, that transports us.
From the high peaks of the Andes to the valley of the Alps.
A perhaps, that can be.
And fall off
And that smile that darkness cannot hide
And that laugh that the last of men could hear
And those eyes for which the beauty of the world still exists
And if I should fall.
