On the world’s bank beyond

I trace the wind,

The breath of hyacinths

The mist of faded braids on a pale girl’s sorrow.

A violet's evening dress

Striving

For an intersection

Between hand and heart 

With the antenna of a butterfly

On new moon

Milking

The scent of carefree souls, dreaming

And those that pain torments,

I wander the unknown:

The incense of our soul

How innocence is redeemed

In the Divine register

The prayers’ reciprocal

On the pristine sands of Paradise

The rising of supplications

To reach

The ruins of chapel “Worthy is your pilgrimage”.

Does it anoint with blessing

Or does the world's vanity disperses

Virtue

And from nothingness death is reclaimed?

The pulse of life

The alpha-beta of bees

            That disinfects the depths of silence

On the petals of lilies, the spring loneliness of a caterpillar

            And its unexpected into fairy transfiguration

In mid ocean a mermaid's vision

            The mercury reviving memories

            Of sailors’ tales

            At night, on deck, drinking moonlight

The divine fulfilment of void

            And the absent Goddess of All

The endless

            But continuously beginning;

                        From trunks that deceived the axe

                        To the wrestling of crabs and waves

                        From the underground winter sparkle of the sun of the hyperboreans

                        To the wet dreams of the harvest just before seeds awaken.

The expanse of the Cosmos

Of my dreams, in which for leagues and leagues I wandered

drowned in sable silence

Between emptiness that freezes your veins

And effulgence that evaporates illusion

In the firmament

Of convex mirrors, indiscreetly overseen by fireflies

Naive traveller

Of the vastness of a red blood cell

And the barely visible mark of a white dwarf,

The open wound I tend

Of the unyielding knowledge of the Gods

Bleeding life’s insoluble and gelid anodyne

But who is to harvest?