Bs. As., March 12th,2009.

For Mariano Moruja

In my dreams, you turn into
a black bird and fly,
as I see your fire eyes, that
already, left me behind.

Tell me! , I beg thee,
World, Ocean, Stars:
Have you felt him,
or seen his flying hands?

Though wounded, he can dance;
all marble, tough warrior,
and still,
all feelings, tears and heart.

His quest? the bravest.
He exposes his Heart, where no ideals exist;
he dares to sparce Hope, where no faith there is.
Even sourrounded by Chaos, his warm refuge, resists.

He `s always in battle, so far away.
I dream of his hands, moving gracely in the air;
let me rest in his spirit,
before I awake.


La Finita

Laa Finita

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/black-bird-10/