RESTORATION

You lack everything:

Hidden paths,

intense fogs;

of the trills of a falcon

that invade silences.

Of the sky and its forms,

of a lightning bolt, in winter,

of hands without something,

of love that is worth its salt;

of snow, of frost,

of roosters of dawn…

You need to dream,

with proud themes

of sacred music,

that announce to the soul,

that, nothing, is death.

doctorpoet