Castles in the sky

Sometimes I close my eyes
a light comes on
it is a widespread flare
a vehement heat glare
it comes from above
from where you don't know
brought by a messenger dove
but who will it show?
The soul is tired
I don't want to think
that number isn't right
there's nothing to cling
this heat oppresses me
it takes my breath away
my mind tarnishes here
I want to sleep today
In sleep there is a dream
and I'm running away
I worked so hard upstream
it's really an agony
I would like to wake up
but I'm an asleep bream
I intertwined my hands
to ease the pains
Open the door for me
my beautiful lady glee
I live in a deep trance
on a castle up on sky
on the edge of a dawn
floating on the clouded night
I feel a strong wind
that takes me away
let yourself be lulled
by this fantasy pulled

Left behind

To which god do the excluded belong?
Not to the God of the Churches
Not to the State not to Society
They are my children your children
With their dignity suppressed
Without a life without a future
Nobody's children as all failures
Deceived and thrown in the deep end
From the presbyopia of fools
Who see a distant suffering humanity
But are blind to the near multitude

The last wave

The last wave
overwhelmed everything
our dreams
our future
It swallowed
beauty and ugly
good and bad
people and animals
And after the huge din
it left an even stronger silence
But we were among the survivors
And life went on as usual
indifferent to our memories
and to our pain

THE EDGE Art Gallery

Lightness

No more dreams
lead now I am
anchored to the ground
by gray children
of gray ideologies
of power and death
I live in a separate reality
spend my days
to count the days
I aspire to heaven
and sink into the abyss
Nothing more distinguishable
trapped now
in this semblance
deceptive of life
I float in hyperbolic spaces
negative geometries
the existence curve
on the infinite limit circle
I find a crack
and disperse in myriads
of subtle vibrations
Diaphanous strings
envelop me
in narrow universes
The heart dries up
with rigorous metrics
We are peripheral numbers
sobs of ancient gods
indifferent anthropophages
Inhuman tangential presences
mark the solitude
of incomprehensible absences
Forced into this garden
multitude of fools
we are in labels
of white coats
Imperfect mechanisms
aspirants to human
Our disease
is in a divine folder
an irrevocable judgment