Belonging

Waiting under your bed
For the time passing by
That understanding is extended
That your struggles be confessed.

The motion is already completed
Sun rays fall in profusion
On the blades of the swords
Brightening the shields coated in gold.

Two old people simultaneously
Face the dark boards
Where without end they experience
The extreme condition of lack of skill.

The ravine rising in a spiral
From the heels to the eyes
Projecting at the moment
Embracing the one imagined.

The truce transformed by word
Between screams that ardently
Search for the exact word
Releasing them from their eternal limbo.

Relentless eyelids
Transformed in landscapes
For a mute artist
In front of a real image.

The dorsal of a shark
At uncontrolled speed
Where a name passes
Implying a closed book.

The relentless hours
Which strike at knowledge
Of a devastating tiredness
For their own imperfect circle.

The open hand
To give or take
Deep in the heart
That never belonged to you.