The Passion of An Artist
Dark circles under my eyes.
I haven’t slept many nights.
How to write? What to write?
I haven’t written for years.
World’s cacophony has blocked
My ears and I pretend to be mute.
But I can still hear that galloping
horse is running all over my frames.
That gorgeous white horse is
carrying the loads of my dreams.
His motionless eyelids are fixed
at the end of this enormous sky.
I walk above the depressed clouds
with my magic legs and I sculpt
the time of pain with a lot of love.
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