THE BROKEN WINDMILL.

I

FALLEN…SLEPT,

EMBRACED AT A DREAM.,

CRUEL WISDOM OF GHOSTS, DRESSED AS TREES,

CROSSING THE TIMES… ROOTLESS,

YOUR KEEN SPACE OF WINDLY SHAPE,

KISSING YOUR WARMLY FACE,

WET BY THE FEVER…WHO BIND THE SOLE SPIRIT,

THROUGH A NARROW TRAIL,

OF WHITELY SALT,

BINDED BY THE WAVES,

FOLLOWED BY HIS SOULS.

DROPED AT THE ROOF,

ON THE GLOVELESS HANDS,

OF THE INDEXES WIDE,

AS OPENED CHAINS,

LEAVING YOUR NAILS,

MARKED ON MY SORROW,

ONE…NO! … TWO OR THREE,

THE SAME RIVAL…MYSELF

THE ONE WHO GLANCED THE CLOUDY SKY,

COVERED …BY SILENT DESIRE,

DECEITFULL POETRY,

UNDERSTAND DO NOT MY GRATES,

IN SUCH DIMENSION, OUR WOODEN LIPS SHALL CROSS?

BROKEN, BY THE TREASON OF THE WINDLY NORTH,

CRYINGS, ABOVE FOUR BROKEN SAILS…NAILED AT THE SAND,

THE SPIRAL STOPPED ITS WHIRLS…THE WINDMILL,

NO MORE WATER…WEARINESS!

LETS FLOW ON THE SWIRLS.

AT THE END… HE SHALL US GO,

TO A NEW WORLD… OUR.

WITH NO AIR, WITH NO DEATH.

WE SHALL WHIRL AGAING.

IN OPOSSITE WAY, TO THE OLD WATCH OF TIME,

BREATHING NEW AIR.

WITHOUT SANDGLASSES,

THE OPENING NIGHT, OF THE WINDMILL SAILS,

A NEW BEGINING, YOUR LOVE…AND MINE.