The Final Writing Brought me Peace


I have had my dream like others
Born of poetry and poverty
Dreaming with the weight of body
Living with love’s open-cares

I have had my dream with infinity
Caressed by strange rumors in my brain
When I am alone, I wait for writing
The air is cool inside my throat
I have had my dream on doorsteps
Of Mandarin idioms and Sanskrit prayers
I have wrote a mysticsm full of my own
Odes to the Cosmos, tripped up my heels

I have had my dream of reincarnations
Triumphant over the most beautiful sorrows
The tragedies were there to teach us
Like a poem with obvious imperfections

We loved and wrote because
We wanted to grow more stupid and peaceful
I have had my dream like other writers
Like an archer in flight, a swan in gleaming
The courageous arrows, gold against the blue.

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