Mountain soil

Safe in the ground where only you tread
Living in the present but thinking of the future
As images in your memory arise cautiously
So you can share things that you could not before.

Albeit, as all temptation is arduous but temporary
It is about not giving up and avoiding the crucial touch
When you allow it to accede
For only one time, and many more then

As one who did not know how to distinguish clearly
Between fear to authority or value for justice
Between what was created or produced
Between what was obtained or built.

Creaking hinges according to air movement
Whatever you wish you can do but you should not
Loyalty comes from your mind
Like the intention to break the body for its demands.

And there is no certainty in proposals
Even the best effort can fail
Perhaps the longest jump is not enough
Because the past is the anchor carried or left by each one of us.

Who will hear you when you hush?
Or when you close your eyes and continue thinking
When under the roof you can feel the rain outside
And when you walk in a sunny day, do you still think on the night?

The warmth of a recently forged sword
The dream of one who dreams searching for another dream
Something that never was sought and occurred
Like the insufferable scream of dying fireflies.

Mud is slush but metal rigid
The weight that sinks for itself
In the story of lust and flesh
Drawn by blinded monks who do not know the scriptures.

In the distance, chips are like particles
Bittersweet serenity, already unavoidable
Like a mountain talking with the moon in Tibet
For not being able to touch or never hold it.