Let's start on our own drift. Maybe that's what we need. Perhaps it is to walk on the insecure what gives us happiness. The moments of never forgetting. A kiss in the air and go to the beyond.
It will not be in that pinch of time the promises that we seek. It will be sweat. Throbbing The moans The cry that sings our praises to the infinite. Towards what we will surely consider lost.
Going around the edges of a stained glass of carmine.
For beautiful, what was lived, is admired by history. A short story that became eternal. A story that will exceed our consciences praising our nervous times.
Do not let your future desires divert you from that blank page that is yet to be written. Do not stumble in the lost times of expectation. Appreciate the intensity of what you are living now. It is there in his poetry where the petals of life open letting us see his letters.