"... the chant unique and erect of the poet – as if the muse and him were learning, from each other, the shadowed lines of navigating lights, just for the pleasure of crossing the salt of duets not yet tasted..."
"Reading is a need, like breathing, writing is a lust, like living. Both are a passion, always evolving, through both I perceive and learn, always growing. Then, each one of them becomes a part of me, like dreaming, and we all become segments in harmony of the fruit of creation, that tastes much better when it is shared. Like love."
The gift is a dance
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a subtle ballet of whispered dreams
and winged desires, interlacing
breaths and arabesques
of luminescent revelations
between the hushed
essence of a kiss
and the hues blending
in the eyes.
The gift is a scented score
of petal-like echoes
touching
and composing a whole garland
a duet of answers
of blossoms
in perfect harmony
to play upon the skin
and wear around the soul
like the shared music
of a secret spring.
The gift is of love
and like a flawless
pas-de-deux
it evolves, in threads of perception
from a core of unrestraint
along the infinity
transparent
of its path.
And it will soar and multiply
indeed
in every mutation
of its own wholeness
the gift
because it is a dance
to a melody of seeds and flights in growth
that never
ever
ends…
