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10/20/2010 6:31:57 PM
He reached the slope of lost dreams.
Mountains and snow twisting
like a veil
around shadows heavy and insisting.
He watched the clouds change form,
becoming the echo of his breath.
Slope of lost words.
Somewhere between heaven and earth,
he stood behind the white quietness
and whispered:''Close your eyes, unreachable sky!
Everyone who dies,remembers.
To the open sea of infinity let me fly!''
And like that, without shoes, without redemption
rolled on the snow. He reached the white cliff
and came back. If he fell, he would reached the top.
White convictions floated on the snow.Only if
time was more than a heavy diversion!
Horses of freedom were travelling with him
among snowflakes and naked trees of passion.
Their steps were leaving traces like a phantom limb,
stating all these passages which formed the seasons' conscience.
The white river was floating with a constant row
like the weapon that has even another bullet inside.
''Pull the trigger!Do it!'' His scream was the only blow.
The journey of destiny was interrupted over the icy road.
So he made his own.
Returning the time that he borrowed,
he changed his Thursday and left for the unknown.
Now he is looking from the top of a white world
the glass doors of others, throwing stones to break them.
He reached the abyss of purity, as an Edenic mortality on hell.
He was the Dominant. Nothing left to judge, nothing to condemn.
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