Adamant and beautiful, this world,
with birds sleeping in the palm.
Playing in the dark is changing into a game
of the day, a disclosing circle.
I fall asleep and wake up
in the land where above
citrus fruit haze rises up the spiral
acceptance of inhaling and exhaling,
by the vast water which is a woman.
And I’m filling up. With every moment.
I grasp more and more space
and life in it.
Throwing the wrong dice, I do not belong.
I have to love for the same reason:
god, Eros, is in every raindrop
washing away sadness and rousing silence
in our overheated eyes. Several suns are holding
one another with no arms. There. And here.
Playing in the dark turning into a festival of the day,
with you, always, with a single breath,
as its centre.