The anchor and sand

If you're the anchor, sometimes you sink and other risest,
I want to be the sand where you grab,
and immersed in our sign, water, deep well,
out of contamination and away from life in the natural way we know it.


Again you rise to noise, your ship sails,
leaving a clean wake others up there, will breathe,
but I, I'll wait forever down here in the infinite,
with translucent and dark of the deep,
no matter where you go, or sailors from all ports,
I'll be there, down there, there, in the deep.

Potters of the keys

I started to draw a line and created a horizon in the way now.
You came to the steps.
Drawing you left a key in the form and payment, very figurative.


The key opened the door that if I cross me blind.
I become, waiting, in a degree in pure truths potter,
and get the key modeling rigid pitcher of holy water,
that quenches my thirst of letters and the face of lived.


Now you're not key, even not payment,
not I a painter or potter,
but we are opening doors and giving shape
to what lies behind them.

To Look without eyes

Look, not to find, the pleasure is to seek.
Seek, above the tide in search of hapiness.
Look, no eyes to find something else.