Silence is
the enemy of revelation,
hope is the
enemy of despair.
I search for
a sanctuary for my heart
and a dream
to embrace with it
the
putrescent wounds.
From time
immemorial,
Despair is
violently knocking
on the doors
of my escaping life.
So, who will
paint the palms of the sun?
and teach me
to amass joy in front of my windows,
and leave to
me,
to me alone,
his vast
embrace,
to move in
it,
to expand,
to shrink,
to riot,
and to cry in
it over the past,
and to teach
me,
that nothing
deserves life,
except his
love.
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