LAST CYCLE © 2008
Childhood, with lungs full of life and laughter,
In the veins flows vigour, and an imprecise dream after.
Youth weaves illusions, lived in halves,
Between play and desires, futures without calms.
One dreamt of being something greater one day,
The fullness of living the world in its array.
But, deep within, were kept the original hues,
The rare, pure, immortal experiences, true and news.
To, in an uncertain moment, share the treasure,
With the magic of an insect alighting on a flower’s pleasure.
To gather love, in the truest scent’s embrace,
And fly happily, in a realm of ethereal grace.
Without suspicion, the nectar was inhaled,
Only imagining love to prosper, unfurled.
But excess brought sorrow, then the tear,
Formed an alliance between the cry and the heart’s sphere.