At the Persistence of Nature


The sky must have a gentle
Bosom of a mother
The river must be the sweet
Flute of a sister
Broad enough is the fresh blood
That time brings, like waves
Of grace and personalities
Even in the harshest months
Of defeat and friendship-poverty
I feel the trees gliding into the wind
The rock hitting the light
Each season breathing life
Never having asked to be born
Just like me, just like how I love!
You didn’t ask for an ungrateful husband
He just argued with you
Like a blue star out of place in the Cosmos.

Under the Hands of Art


This rapture of the colors shivering
Strikes at the heart of my instinct
I secretly want to join

The future without consequence
To flood forward with the whims
Of imaginations not born yet

To strive, astonished and irreversible
Cutting all sense of abandonment
With the infantile revolt

Of seeking the last freedom
The hidden God within the eye-of-youth
Like a revolution of pure enthusiasm

I secretly want to join
The optimistic hoards of perfect melodies
A specter of notes, proverbs of lost moons

I give myself to quantum fragments
On a green canvas I plant my hunger
As an illusion, that no longer wishes to exist.