11-9-09

I took the clock and time,
easy to erase, hard to repair,
look them like a single rhyme
and more light than a tear.
I say it and sounds strange
and my tongue seems to blind
a charge without change
of all the colours of the wind.

When you see the streets
in fire both high and low,
the remaining song of defeats
or the irrational modes of grow,
because powerful and victorious
are not either the same mean,
for achieve luck and get glorious
you need first to know to lean.

I remember saw with you the birds,
that summer the sun was a feather,
and you whisper them the words
for be safe together,
if fear is in the air
everything you touch around,
that they earn and spare
where we think to fall down.

And it's time to go straight,
the patient always in our hearts
like a mother's love and hate,
and the adventure starts,
no place for our apologies,
in fact, that you are guessing
to write that intrepid anthologies,
have them close, and becoming a blessing.