Futility

From the white tiles
Of the parish church
I began my search for you,
Journey through memories without guides.

I found you, outside, in the breeze,
In the same instant I lost you,
A sun laughs in the iron rails;
What happens to those who don't listen?

Images of you, lost in the infant rain:
An empty arc in the silence,
If I think of you now
I will want you more than ever.

Across the red beach
With snakes haunting the sand
There are our footsteps,
And there, near the waves:
Where the mosaic sirens
Sat us down, together, breathless.

The moon has promised
To dance with the horizon tonight;
I don't want to see,
In the rabbit's glimmer
I would only see your warm, shivering,
Lips.And I refuse the bird of prey.

The constellations on fire;
Flames golden and tearless,
Hiding rainbows that constrict clouds,
They disguise the hunter's steps
In the fields that never lie:
Secretly, I hear them.

The wind sleeps mouth wide open
The ants end their journeys
Upon its lower jaw: still dry.
I follow them
So as not to follow anything else.
Sparkling like ice, my steps feign defiance.

Wake up, dreams of wars and hunger,
Come to me in the soulless night, where beautiful spirits
Tease the divine ignorance.Where is the world?

The world has been orphaned:
Sun and moon turned from parents of day and night
Into perpetual abusers by the hands begging for their own blood.

Fathers die alone: Forgotten on the morrow,
Where is their cemetery? Can I go there, to mourn?

Conquering arms wait to be severed by greater Empires.

I deserve to burn, for I believe this to be new.

Ah but I remember you too well! I will run to you, somewhere,
Whilst the Sacred Family erect their ruins for the crickets.