Our souls are so tough that, with nothing better to do, we watch the fragments fall in loop.
It seems like a heavy cloud of rain, but it’s just all this scrambled matter we call life.
Fragile enough for the wind to carry.
I tell the time with words instead of numbers
The day I met you is verse on torn paper.
Find me there after the period
I’ve been searching for suspenion points.
Life is kind of an universe;
more like emptness than anything.
And I was spinning.
This is why I don’t believe it was luck that made me saw her,
hiding her own light.
She trapped me in her orbit easy as a moon. I could have just stayed there forever, simple as that, or until everything became too entropic.
But she said going around and around wasn’t that fun, and she suggested us to just float away with no direction.
Now I think we are messing with the whole universe’s order, but I don’t really care anymore.
The evening was coming and I was bathed in golden drops of rain.
I close my eyes and imagine.
It again stops, I close my hand,
and the coming of the evening is sure the coming of an end.
in open air