Keys Borrowed from Other Lives
Keys Borrowed from Other Lives
Keys borrowed from other lives patient and luminous ancient,
in songs from rusted trumpets and cymbals a magical clear homage,
at the mouth of a cave the day before yesterday inhabited by radiant demigods,
and behold a man is emperor in a subaquatic realm of green crystal.
His green skin has long learned the unusual sacred cosmic thought,
his hands now beat the waters make fire in the submerged radiant forests,
and we the happy servants of the earthly world blessed by sun,
we dry our laundry through courtyards through sheds on golden rooftops.
We always manage to take flight over streets transformed by magical time,
our decadence becomes a suggestive dance to illustrate the living metamorphosis,
look into my eyes Izabel and you will glimpse the children who plant flowers,
at night in gardens of light I witnessed their birth from stars.
Their parents were true as butter as rye as umbrellas dancing,
with wind and stuck in trees from through suburbs like living flags,
and again you will whisper to me with lips pressed to ear warm and magical gentle,
the quarter has diamond precision the whole has cosmic restlessness choose beloved.
Choose in moderation and in understanding with the soul of the sea that sings waltzes,
keys borrowed from lives that visit us through radiant dreams,
in songs from rusted trumpets that sound more magical than the new silver ones,
homage at the mouth of the cave where demigods sleep with open luminous eyes.
A man is subaquatic emperor in a realm where water is living liquid crystal,
his green skin has learned what it means to be cosmic human on dry land,
his hands beat the waters that dance make fire that illuminates the green forests,
and we the happy servants of the dry world we dry our clothes of magical lives.
We take flight over streets transformed by time that flows in spirals,
our decadence is the dance of metamorphosis for what we will become tomorrow,
look into my eyes Izabel and see the children who plant flowers of light,
I witnessed their birth I was there when they detached from constellations.
Their parents were true as butter that shines in warm golden sun,
as rye that grows toward sky and toward stars simultaneously as umbrellas taken,
by wind and stuck in trees like wings opened toward new dimensions,
and you whisper to me with your warm lips the quarter has pure crystalline precision.
The whole has living cosmic restlessness choose beloved between the perfect magical fragment,
and the totality that contains all universes choose with the soul of the deep sea,
keys borrowed from other lives that left them as gift for us,
patient they wait for us to use them to open doors toward new radiant worlds.
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