I was in the dark jungle.
Why the sun was black?
Beyond the terminator of existence, the broken branches made me wince.
A ghost who feared ghosts.
I had lost my direction, there was no horizon.
I wandered for days thirsty and exhausted, between thecave and the bright puddle.
Red pill in one hand, blue in the other, purple haze.
I saw him climb the hill, entering the jungle. He look for me.
Then, the hurricane.
The rain within me, into the bones, murderous rain.
He wiped and covered me,
he warmed me and prayed in his own way.
He took me to the hospital.
And he, with his heart shattered, curled up on the corner, he waited for the inevitable and cruel white squawking of the radio.
But I heard it before him …
And now I see him, in my temporary cubicle, and he looks at me desperately,
a glimmering red shy, while murmurs a greeting, before the flowers and the dark and temporary crucible, the painful shroud, broken words while whispers a sad litany
for the two of us in the serotonin breeze.
Dispersed on the existence ridge we found ourselves hovering on our belonging.
We looked ourselves and we realized that we were to each other, eyes and hopes.
Now I’m crossing through the hard path that will lead me into a new world, or my origins and I will continue to follow my paths traced in the grass and in your heart,
while you’re in silence , I am bound to you forever, I’ll always be with you until the end.
One day the door will open and you will be there.
Maybe today, or tomorrow, or in a future past.
I will be there.
In front of the horror of the loss,
I chase the ghosts of my shadow,
You left me a part of your soul,
and I can hear you and see you again, darkly.
We’re going at the top of the mountain, broken legs and all our wounds.