Each time I came to look into your eyes there was a truth in your sighs, a question about your answer, filled a void in your real ... something in your sleep. Butterflies had a hundred (that nobody else could see) wandering outside for my belly. An army of butterflies which you were (and will always be) master. At this point I do not care if no one understands, not even you ... not even me. For in the stillness of the evening I'm tired of thinking that "things are so."
in my head was, did not stop, do not get caught stopped ... there was always one more question. He also knew that sooner or later, in the middle of the night (middle of the hole in which one can hide) would end forever the noise and again hear that familiar fluttering inside me. That flapping you always wake up with your presence. Finally comes
unavoidable: "What else could happen?".
After all he had turned back a thousand times the world ... I had given many turns the hourglass of your cracks. Now, just looking for a bit of you in me.
And I know that a lot of words on paper can not come back. I know because I've tried. Neither a million tears.
[And I say now is when brawling: "Enough ... Why do not you shut your pretty mouth?"].
But the answer is as clear as sad: Because finally, after all, if my eyes failed to heal ... my words can not hurt.
Or maybe it's that I like to travel with that constant feeling that takes the form of "hint smile "on my lips. One of those smiles quiet, silent, sealed ... solemn. And fly, fly high ... fly away.
truth is when I remember you (the end always saved me) ... One of those smiles that only you are able to create. A non-evanescent smile.
and miss you, and that the butterflies esperenza greens and the memory (because yes, there are certain memories that can only be green) again stirred in my stomach ... no shame, no buts, no mercy. Dreams whispering, pointing the way and I know by heart (and I suspect that you have ever traveled.) That
, one that leads into the woods ... to lake.
there ... where toads rhyming poems and rhyming verses toads.
Enlightenment "Belly Butterfly" the teacher of Achilles Jalón. More than recommended stop by his blog if you like to walk between colors, wonders and dreams (who tread these places always returns:)
[A bunch of "thank you" Illusionist ... all]
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