The world flows with its own sound,
\npast doors that never close,
\nnever lock.
\nThis is where I am it says.
\nI have roads of infinite length,
\ndark verandas
\nfrom which you can see
\na kiss return again and again,
\nfull and opulent.
\nFull of poems
\nlike a woman who returns
\nfrom the box of her darkness,
\nbecause of love,
\nwhose eyes are full of old tears,
\nsaying, I am nothing.
\nI changed nothing.<\/p>\n
You held me in your arms
\nin the moment of a lullaby,
\nand my love never ceases.
\nIt will always cover you with petals
\nbecause you refuse to let me die.
\nSo I never go away.
\nOld man, with your poems
\nare you lost in the clouds?
\nDoes your work get done?
\nDo you keep your schedules?
\nAnd honestly, I do not know.<\/p>\n
People see my clothes,
\noffer me food,
\nbut the place where my heart goes
\nis open,
\nfull of empty sea,
\nand they know somehow I\u2019ve changed,
\nI am far away.
\nA hand touches my chest,
\nlips warm my mouth,
\nand it is she who stays with me,
\nloves me.
\nThe world I was taught to see as stone,
\nfull of love.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The world flows with its own sound, past doors that never close, never lock. This is where I am it says. I have roads of…<\/p>\n