That you were born and you will die. That you will sometimes love enough and sometimes not. That you will lieif only to yourself. That
Tall and proud,
A young wave
Approaches the beach
Its eagerness on bold display
As it flaunts a perfect 1.618 curl
Connecting with the hard reality of the shoreline
The wave is born onto the land
In a sizzling collapse of spray and foam
Then, it began to rain.And I thanked the replaced roof,The materials, the laborers, the sun.And I discovered the gift of work that is done. And
And it was at that age…Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from–winter, a river, Don’t know
You are carrying me, full consciousness, god that has desires, all through the world. Here, in this third sea, I almost hear your voice: your
Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness
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