You know that I do, and yet silence should be broken by the sound of the quill giving birth to new words that say so.

I wish you could have rested in my arms
with the peacefulness that lotus flowers
have on a quiet pond where the silence
are not disturbed by a tiptoeing breeze,
your ear on my chest hearing my heart
beating a rhythm that soothes all fears,
softly passing over your face my hand
like a warmth cloth made of tenderness
to dry forever the fountain of your tears.

An spiritual eremite in a cavern of time
I expected you to appear long long ago
to be part of what it was to be…my life,
but we were kept apart by jealous gods
that use spears as the cruel poets quills
to write our names as they could be apart,
denying the gardens of the most pure scent
by letting all flowers wither before bloom
and migrating birds to fall from the skies.

No names will be engraved on any tree
but without saying it you know how I am,
as if suddenly besides you I lie one night
and you feel the impulses from my skin
that will press out of yours any absence,
any wants, any solitude, becoming one,
and we would fall deeper and deeper yet,
lovers desperately embraced falling into
a velvet void with kisses and not a sound.

Love letters weren’t wrote, words no said,
but when closing your eyes you become
a feather without a bird migrating to me,
again and again trying to reach the pond
where the peaceful lotus flowers are asleep
and faraway stars will come to take a deep,
veils of spiders webs will hide a naked moon
that crawls over our feverish bodies like ice
to calm volcanic fire when I am Loving You.