it's been said

I saw you at the periphery of an absentmindedly hour.

Perceiving that, I've decided for good to not want you

anymore in my mind at the borderline of another hour.

I could give you thousands of minutes of reasons why

but I preferred to let words get trundle ridiculous

among the air of love where it's been said daily a tale.

After all, in the realm of imagination, everyone can be

replaced exactly as is replaced an image from a gallery,

an address from a city, or a song with another one….

«The world moves in ways,
we can scarcely understand,
yet we walk into the light.
After everything we've seen,
we still believe that we are free,
yet we sing the song of our chains.
It's been said that the people
will be free when the sounding
of the horn becomes
the bending of the tree.
The dove will be held high
by the singing summer breeze
inside the light that fills God's mind.
From the vine grows the thorn
and the thorns make up a crown.
Where were you when love was born,
where was love when we were bound?
I have nothing left of you and
I have not much left of me,
something is assembled nonetheless.
On either side of the line,
we circle our own selves,
we search through the fog.
And all this noise was once a sound,
and every leaf was once the ground.
Wild-eyed fear beholds the night
when the shadow of the path is
violated by false light.
From the vine grows the thorn
and the thorns make up a crown.
Where were you when love was born,
where was love when we were bound?»