domingo, 29 de noviembre de 2009

Under a Van Gogh drawn storm

Under a Van Gogh drawn storm

One day, when moon was the same white of clouds
And time was passing slower than usual
Besides a very special mountain
Not so far from ocean

I gave myself a chance to be as normal as tragedy
As real as water viscosity
As silent as earth rotations
And as ephemeral and persistent as life

That day, exactly at the moment someone ignited the public lights
I realized, I’ll never find the “Real” truth behind walls
Neither the one inside their steel nerves
After that day, I’ll use to say, I did begin to live

So dear reader, don’t be too demanding with me
Because I’m a baby, just one night old

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