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Pain for the water that has run away,
drop by drop, without trails.
A sudden shell breaking,
as a future with no sense,
as a miracle of forgiveness,
as a distortion of the brain.
It was balsam, fire and essence,
essential odor of woman, frame.
It was vitality for coupling a mirage,
of a certain blue eternity.
And the enclosure made me prisoner,
order and disorder playing games.
The distance became blurring,
the noises ghosts of Death.
The blood flooded dusty,
in waves of heat and deceit…
but then….something was.
A soul is not jus wet…watery…
but a profound and fathomless hell.
Where devils met my anxiety,
with a candid smile and touched,
me with a new incandescent flower.
Tender crusty leaves….tender nest.
I am not free anymore but free I am…
in a vast canopy of darkness….
telling stories about gods…
that kidnapped desperate maidens..
and gave them age and wisdom,
to mate the eternal Light …
that grows without dimensions,
and is seen by all the blind.
Geodic dimensions of a flower,
rooted in the mud of burnt Love.
This poem is subjected to @ Copyright Rosa Cobos 2012 - All rights reserved
July 27th, 2012
Viewed 262 Times - Last Visitor from Adelaide, 05 - Australia on 12/18/2013 at 5:24 AM