His path was forged by the stones of the road.
Her smile was like the midday sun that minces the haze in a reverie of mirrors, like the mirrors of our yesterdays.
His inner storms shaped her serene image, in seaweed and terror; in a slept sun and in empty arms.
She was like a blind child playing with rocks, she was magnetic derivation, electricity and ivy leaves.
He just was a wound that couldn't be healed...
"You'll be like a light which will light my way".
She was settled in the ample celestial blue; in the huge sky of the dead daughters.
As a constellation she was settled.
He turned into nocturnal creature or galvanic reaction...
...Far and estranged from the worldly theatre, their garden remains immutable, haunted by her amorous light...by his animalized pantings.
Will this horrid despondency, this nïghtmare without an end disappear one day?
"You'll be like a light that will light my way".
