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￭ (in the doorway)
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2016-05-06 | |
Diamonds cut in the green eye
enlighten the moment
the angels are flying.
Since the white wolves seek the prey
an instinctive hunger
falls in the care of daily searching.
The cold and the snow start the madly howl
in the frozen clearing of the forest,
they vibrate in the ears of the stars,
and open the eyes of the moon.
The sunrise, a circle of fire,
finds people asking for forgiveness on their knees,
God, gladly, approaches.
The uttermost borderless borders
over which nothing crumbles,
the sky is round itself,
the inside recomposes
in the spiral of becoming.
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