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Poem

Night awakens in the chaos of infernos imploding beneath the darkened sky,
It stretches, casting its tangled locks over the deep silences,
Shedding the seraphic blankets of the winter moon, golden and silent,
And dances barefoot on the icy floors that crackle beneath its steps.
It stumbles over the remnants of dawn, torn like shattered thoughts,
Like shards of sharp hail scratching windows emptied of meaning,
The night trembles under hungry fangs that shake the bells of eternity,
As gusts of darkness devour forgotten lullabies.
It chews on torn dreams, running through loops of unfulfilled obsession,
Night gathers in storms of dead-end roads, full of fixations,
Where grotesque graffiti covers the walls of despair masked by tornadoes,
Storms of mania that seem like solutions in the unknown labyrinth of the mind.
Whispers of wind born from worms of thought step before the sky,
Cutting the divine heart with blades of storms infected by darkness,
While the blood of angels stains the wings of doves that lose their flight,
Anxiety spills in torrents as the litanies of hours break into noise.
The wild night roams through the core of darkness, gripped by tornadoes,
Eagerly awaiting the first glimmer of light of a new rebirth.

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