love and glory

by
walking through the paths of the dreams,
the reality of the right now, it melts into a magic joy
costumed in the splendid power of stellar dust
fine pigmented with the stolen moments out of a poem
identifying my soul as being a medicament, an appetizer,
the scent of some color, even some suffering for lust,
a sweet sound comparable with the hymn of the fantasies

walking through the paths of the dreams,
a touch of the sun dawn, and of the moonbeam, with
the mysterious realm of the night, and the grandeur of the day
offered to my spirit the gifted tone of a key directed
by the mystic air of a drunken smile unable to give anything else
except, appreciation hidden in a tiny story about love and glory


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