Vital Vice

It came upon me, upon my existence, 
Twisting the threads inside of my head; 
So beautifully immense, that in an instant 
It could have reached the heartstrings of the Earth.

Individual vibrating elements 
Assembled in intricate design, 
That enters this mind, and compels 
My every fibre to align.

Truthful words, elegantly made,
That gently bind and pierce
Every fraction of my soul, and name
The greatest of my fears.

Its source, anything but holy.
Its creation, not divine.
Its perfection, still as faulty
As by a mere mortal man.

The embodied source
Of the fairest sound
That has ever been borne
By sweet music’s mouth.

I shall praise its beauty evermore,
And its beauty shall appease my life;
For no other work of art I know
As powerful as thine.

Años

Lejos de lo que la mente puede vislumbrar,
Están los años secuestrados por el tiempo,
Dejando pequeños fragmentos atrás
De todos los retratos y su movimiento.

Cuando los instantes se acumulan,
Cuando ya no se pueden contar,
Inquietamente estridulan,
Y todo se queda, y todo se va.

Lo que queda, se graba en el organismo,
Lo que se va, se encuentra en ojos ajenos,
Y sin embargo, los dos son lo mismo,
Encarnando los años, dejándolos plenos.

Unhad

I walked the woods at night,
The wind embraced the trees,
The stars spilled their light,
And I lost sight of my feet.

The rose was never red,
It was him who was behind,
I tried to follow where he led,
Only him I longed to find.

Because I saw myself with bonds of lace,
Hidden away in his abode,
With autumn leaves upon my face,
And fear of loneliness unborn.

And he caressed me with his eyes,
And put me to sleep on the softest silk,
High above, the reddest skies,
Down below, me on my knees.

Yet, what I saw could not have been,
Nor in a hundred lifetimes be,
Extraordinary what I'd seen,
Ordinary all he would see.

Until time made my mind's eyes weary,
And blurred out the aching vision
That had tortured me so sweetly,
Setting free this self infliction.

Nothing left but the sense
Of a perpetual extrinsic ideality,
That cannot be shaken away
From my distant and lonely reality.

To Aycan

Unmet, unknown, unspoken,
Before the thunder broke the sky,
Until the fearful path was chosen,
To find the poetry in life.

The wind stroked the trees with subtleness,
And painted the ground with leaves,
Holding the image motionless,
Submitting us to its decree.

Time stole from us reverberation
From the crash of our nights,
And left us with the stark sensation
That constancy comes back.

Yet, the distance won't lead to falter,
For the space deceives the eye,
And, while seizing seems to be farther,
Expectancy remains alive.

To Olga

With love made out of steel,
A heart forlorn won't stop to feel
The life that pours from darkness' light,
This candle's flame keeps burning bright.

Safe in memories' arms,
She killed unfinished wars,
And what may come she fears not,
Because a veil of gold she's got.

Like a petal from a rose,
This emptiness will fall,
And despite the years gone by,
This soul's still full of life.

Captive in the rain of green,
Until this day she's been,
And when the shadow fades away,
Her voice in time will stay.

Trapped in a Butterfly

The dust, it falls into my eyes,
It blinds my sight, it makes me cry,
Too many lifetimes old my soul,
It won't awake it's broken song.

It glides across a crystal garden,
And feeds from what I've been starving,
The mirror made of earthly flowers,
Won't show my pain of lonely hours.

In every raindrop I see the nightsky
From the nights when the storm was by my side,
And every thunder that roared in the Earth
With water from blue sap the forests would bathe.

Now I am the prisoner of beauty,
Subservient to its cruelty,
Inside the colors praised by men,
Absent from where I would dwell.

In the core outside perception,
Within linens of perfection,
I have drunk of sweet delight,
From immortal tears of time.

Until the men of endless weeping
Through their five ways couldn't reach me,
So they cut me into bits and pieces,
And on the butterfly engraved their wishes.

Being named was my damnation,
Confined in wings without salvation,
A lovely form seen from afar,
That's out of reach from stumbling hands.

Though in the sphere of understanding
I'm trapped while they're commanding,
When their thirst for truth is quenched,
I will seek to find revenge.

Latrodectus mactans (Black Widow)

Hiding beneath the black abyss,
Where dormant eyes can’t see,
She’s always there, ready to strike,
Waiting to lay her deadly bite.

For she feeds, and breathes, and feels,
And the scent of death she fears,
Until it creeps into her brain,
And she’ll be reborn again.

From her image we shall run,
Until our shiny cage is gone,
And we are her and she is us,
We won’t be kneeling to a cross.

We’re all in the hourglass’ red,
In the female spider’s lair,
Where all is void and all is empty,
With little Earths and Skies aplenty.

We’re all in the surrounding black,
In the absence of the life,
Still our form remains the same,
Then we go back to nothingness.

All the things in which light flows,
And the lifeless ones it molds,
All in silence once awoke,
When the circle broke its lock.

So, when again the final time
Is set by the hourglass,
The spider will be maimed,
And we’ll be reborn with her.

Wry

Golden roots that rise above,
Hidden summer, winter cold.
Hazel eyes on the edge of being,
Bleeding words to grab the moon,
Diving deep into the black lagoon.
Salting nerves to still the gaze,
Watching loners chafe my side,
Tread on leaves that make me slide.
Hold the wave that strikes the stars,
Lost against the one in all,
On that luster covered wall.
Clone this wretch a thousand times,
Sailing back a deja vu.
Hand a memory color blue,
Chosen by the one unknown.
Stretch the thread until it breaks,
Get notion of what it takes,
To reach the illusion beyond the lush.

Death of a Star

She was lonely in the night,
Up high in the blue of the sky.
She had no love, she had no faith,
But she kept shining night after night.
Like all the others she had dreams,
But all those dreams, they faded away.
Why was she crying in the mist?
Why didn't she talk, why didn't she pray?
Why was she burning in her heart?
She never answered, she never spoke,
She only stared down at the world,
But the flames consumed her soul,
And she was never seen again.
They say she died a night of cold,
But never knew why did she go,
Until one day we dared to see
Below our feet, past through the clouds,
An earth of men made up of hate,
And we surely knew why she gave up soon.
Why would you enlight a world that's doomed?
When all your light turns back as shadows,
And what you feel remains so shallow,
Isn't it better to die in light
than to be burned by the reflection of stars?