Diamonds rush with the speed of light
To create a silver chandelier of dreams.
Lovers dance under the glorious angel
For it heals the wounds from every angle.
The pure one hangs above our heads
Like the baby’s musical toys in his bed.
It’s a piece of paradise for us to please
Our eyes, freedom is beautiful tonight!
Photographers, let’s shoot the full moon!
Poets, let’s catch it with weaved silk webs.
My children, laugh when it follows you!
Werewolves, eat! it’s a feast of tasty ribs!
Clouds of dust gave birth to a star.
A star that is not yet charted …
It is born by prayers from wars,
to wish upon for the good hearted.
The star kept glowing for time …
Giving light in the absolute darkness.
It stopped trying for it is a waste, a crime
to be unappreciated by the heartless.
There it was abandoned left to die …
To face the fate of being a black hole.
It kept weeping and wondering why …
Why has this had happened as whole?
The moon said to the black hole:
“You are still a star to me.”
… “Look into my dark soul …”
… “All what is in is gold to see!”
“I am the absence of the light,
I am the silence of the night.
All I do is pull, clutch and take,
and there is no decision to make.
I blend with the darkness as one,
isn’t it funny how I love the sun?
The sun does not agree with the moon,
and it won’t change its mind any soon.
The sun says that I am the reality.
A reality that shattered its dreams.
I am the example of abnormality,
not the queen of love realms.
Everyday I am blown away …
With the heat of its explosions!
The sun is there to save the day …
With warmth and devotion!
One day the moon will break.
The earth will start to shake.
The sun will melt and fall,
and I will swallow it all.”
The sun woke him up kissing his soft lips as she embraced him with warmth to say I love you, his colourful sheets tied his young body forbidding him to leave, the pigeons made love to him through his window with their beaks, untying himself he walked up to the pigeons and they flew lightly, the sea stared at the depth of his eyes with admiration.
He decided to greet the morning with a smile that made the crumbled bread on the Rambla street goes toast. He lived a day with the roses trying to catch his scent, with the country laying paths of glory for him to walk on, with the dancing birds around his head and the sky above him changed her colours when the sun buried herself in red.
The moon then came jealous playing the Moonlight Sonata on his flawless skin to keep him up until his seductive dreams pulled him in saying – “My turn” in thirst for life.
Those Trees took off their orange gowns to put on silky green. Those roses; the sleeping beauties, have worn their sensational perfume and blushed their velvety cheeks. The moon danced the pavane on my river living a love fantasy.
The river broke waves to greet him in a beautiful rhythm creating music along with the rose-breasted grosbeaks which refused to sleep. When he arrived, stars threw their selves beneath his feet for they are unworthy to compete with his eternal glow.
His light defeated the darkness of the night and his vivacious laugh poured on nature to comfort her mourning soul. He blew kisses in the air and they flew like butterflies in a dream and the inspiration roses have tried to collect them like pieces of fine poetry.
All that nature needed from those deep honey wells of heaven is a glad gaze, a gaze that would make her feel loved enough to grow beautifully till she dries of longing for a second date.