Wednesday, January 19, 2005

1st

It’s wildly cloudy.

The city gets empty
loses all the power of its urban melody.

If I get lucky
there’ll be very fine rain,
people complaining.

Ironic to think how hard is to get out of bed
to contemplate such a beauty
still in dark.

Pure light always comes,
such a sad thing:

those beautiful blue stones
without any sound.

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