Taking a risk for being young
Because fears, perhaps many
Are brief with a kind of clumsiness
As the grip or the word can be enough
To gain the embrace and the link creating it.
Without talking about the power or history
In the car or on the porch of a cathedral
The fate of being real and someone existing
Because it occurs while life goes by
Between premonitions and known certainties.
From what we have and since having it what we await
From what we want and since then what we do
The cloth somebody makes and someone else wears
The size imagined but ignored by someone who wears
And the art of inclusion or not joining ends.
There is nothing to say when every name sounds
Conveying a message that dwells deep inside
And wants to answer as it follows the own desire
Going through anything that was imposed to cross
Until it reaches an extreme point where is not worthwhile going
It still follows and indication that there is a long way
Between the acts, their lifetime, the speech and the one involved
Like branches knowing as they are but not chosen to be
And even though they can protest they refrain
Because they are carried by an ardent fire.
The return to simple things without noise this time
The impulse of a breath moving to an expression
The eyes saying that explanations are superfluous
The sight fixed on what is pretended to be excluded
As a sterile woman dismisses the promised son.
In any street on a dark night or in a time of rest
During or after a desire daring to blossom
Deep inside a person expressing his essence with his hands
As a suspicious intent under a more human appearance
Knowing that those pretending will have a brief stay –
The scream does not burst forth but it sure comes to the order.