Even if it has been
It would not seem so short
Even if we were told
We never would believe.
Because the pressure of a man
Searching air from his cave
And dreaming on it, imprisoned in his chrysalis.
Another colder wind
Where snow and ice
Between quartz tears
Bathing marble lips.
Flesh that falls tired
By age and circumstances
Of a hidden thirst of vultures
And once expressed fanatic needs.
The greatest mirror that reflects others
In a triangle that overpowers to be greater
Added by two northern and one southern line.
The venturous strike of rites
The rhythm of each qualification
While everything stops for someone who had left
And for a single moment only exists what you think.
A rock scourged by the sea
Lacerated by winds until ignominy
But in sustaining a place, its own and those of others
Calls water to water and air to air.
There is no gratitude but awareness exists
Someone who succeeds remains grateful
One who masters his artistic capacity stays wanting
Being able to consume him if he does not learn to concentrate.
Launched from himself or from someone else
With a bitter feeling for acting as a link
A structural sample ending in diamond or graphite
To release what is called will or emptiness.