There are so many times when, emerging inside myself I forget about the world...
for I get to discover it inside me, more true than ever...
There are so many poems I have lost - given to people,
erased and burned or transformed...
stolen at times by hearts that weren't supposed to be mine, that weren't supposed to care...
sometimes I pity my lost energy, I pity me for not giving the light I tried to put down...
to make a page brighter...
to make a soul lighter...
There are seconds of staying alive and being hungry or thirsty,
things I had to say to get a peace with the world or myself....
but I can't cry...
it is - egoistically - damn painful to blame myself...

and giving my love away may not be as wise as it should,
but it is in fact a warm gesture that could heal some hot blood
and ease down a ray of wind's turbulences...

so I don't care, or I care differently, brightly trusting the scene of life...
one or two lost poems, a lifetime to recover ahead...

one thousand beautiful words,
one hundred caresses - the sun, the wind, my trembling hand...

the nature in itself - the greatest poem