There are men who inhabit confined paces
like plastic or glass bottles.
Without the possibility of expanding the space
that possesses clusters of eggs and shoots of flesh.
In this world, the cloud is the one that revolves
around the object
and transcends industrial matter.
There the thirst of mortals is quenched,
like a dove's pain
calm reigns and beings adapt themselves to the confinement.
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
