MOUNT SION

In the churchyard shadow
sadness olive groves of mount sion
everything is still memory groove crack
where it sprouts in silence
the sore earth a path barely reverberates
Among memories that murmur
his pale tessitura
Towards a city that slow
Dawn and shelter
under the scent of olive trees.

BEGINNING

The dawn extends
its warm and silky transparency,
the moisture is filtered
through the pores of the earth.

Flowers, leaves and crusts
lacerate the ethereal
course of the days,
in the high breeze dust fly
compressed memories and pollen,
mosses and lichens disrupt
their velvety silence.

Swarm offish routines
in an everlasting void.

From the weariness of those furry ivies
my eyes are infinite exiles
and thoughts burst like mauve.

Beyond the sharp smell of musk
permeates the air
and melts the resinous aroma of trees
and orange of the evening,
where the birds’ songs are scattered
and experiences diluted,
where ethereal dreams mature
and the absences sigh,
there we will return to the beginning.

In its intense indigo,
the night covers desires
of transient chimeras,
in the slow and transfigured step
of what’s always the same
we dissolve into intangible sequences.
there where absences gleam
we’ll go back to the beginning.