untitled

when shall we speak

out of our hearts,

not messaging through a small display,

as small as something

that gave up beating?

when will I look into your eyes

and say: my soul, my heart,

forgetting about codes,

or whatever,

then gaze into the skies,

discovering oneself

in a half moon...

full of gentle praises

(inspirado num poema de blindness)

(imagem retirada da net: posição de meia lua)