Me Alone

A romantic alchemy is an exploration in art to create,
in listening pictures, their nagging, wandering shades,
silent  melancholy waltz under the attentive eye,
in black bluish ocean inspiration of passengers.

The heart quietens down, the wrong become blurred,
however, flapping of needles wish to immobile,
wounds lose blood in a torrential stream,
to come, to drown into ink and sounds.

As the bird breaks the rungs of an animal box,
blush and fractures in past to fly off, settle,
soul lacerated in depths of the chest,
put down nonchalantly in arms of benevolence.

In nice ocean which I consider in dusk,
bitter foam in salt alluvium come to sow my feather,
while the earth closes eyelids with heaviness gracious,
to leave my cold body within glacial night.

Its the big heart to look anxious,
to nimble my so soft feather,
container of wrong which make me suffer,
to try waters in which I will breathe.