The storms that in the sea of the archaic era

sowed in the crests of the waves

the life’s origin

they knew something of that June morning

when the lovers discovered

in the park

the tree of butterfly’s leaves.


The day that night exploded

and the billions of suns

and the stars

left to the conquest of what

did not exist

a wink of energy smiled

projecting this little golden ray

that plays on your cheek,

happy to have dealt with

the foliage.


The millions and millions of years

that, here or in other moment,

absolute immobility of the light’s distances

that kept time to the elemental vibrations,

raveled and unraveled the cabalistic message

of the nucleic acids,

spent their time well

on sunday,

seeing your face shining

before a little insect that,

still very young, undoubtedly,

did not dare to fly.



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