Thursday, 15 March 2012


And words, they dissolve
Like sugar on your tongue
Like ice on pavements of summer
Like yellow leaves in spring.

Words, like days and strangers
Pass me by, faceless, on the road.

Old words are enemies,
Songs and friends you
Choose not to meet.

Sometimes, in black of the night
Words are mirages, maybe unknown birds
Words are places that howl at dawn
That murmur and scream.

Words are your own curse
When you become what you write.

And words of morning are born
Through the dark
When it’s easy to paint her
On the canvas of tomorrow
With shades that make a tale.

Know deceiving words
That follow and never rhyme,
If you go where your story goes,
To meet the horizon
Or into a crude moon
Don’t end where it begins.

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