Gratitude
The sense of gratitude
passing through me slowly
reaches
the forests that root in the wind
days in tomorrow’s train stations
we live in nameless streets
by the riverbanks of every number
the cosmos will forget
all who loved it and
it won’t know the number of stars
each person hides in their heart
forgotten in the old mistakes
all lovers are holy and sinful
Eros is a thirst
for whom will be betrayed
shining moment that suddenly arrives
and vanishes in the whirl of eternity.
And if the road is full of truths
the inexplicable moment is still far away
the dream dives into the void and
writes about chancy destinations
in this version of history
they keep time and light like
a legacy of nothing they inherit
from generation to generation
an untidiness of improvisation
a vigilant attraction.
Outside something like a forged spring
and the forever illusion
of keys that open the wide-open door.

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