September 2 (III)

I take off the weight of oblivion,
I renew a beat, that repeats itself with criterion,
and that was recorded, from a time of weeping,
from the time of simple anguish,
when a single verse defined my tranquil.
 
Because, I do not deny that I danced to the rhythm,
between rebelliousness and detachment,
my hope kept criticizing the enchantment.
 
Today I renew my taste for the sweet arpeggio,
and for the lyrics that invite you to the scenario,
for the lit home nights,
wine and whispers,
and for the old breath in my whiskers.
 
I had buried the memory of those lines,
but soon, the verses awaken,
the wonderful rhymes,
in times, of style and anticipation.
 
I forgot about direct messages,
dart phrases and some harangues,
on the virtuous bridge of deep langues.
 
Today, just on the day of my thirty-third birthday,
in the hour of wind, a moment of greatness,
I let the songs fill my melancholy,
and my Sea and Sky, feel the truth of its serendipity.
 
I whisper a choir;
my voice cracks,
my pupils get wet,
my lips tremble… and a kiss arrives.
 
A kiss, the only open and pure present,
a kiss, in a morning of hope and cold.
which brings us to here and now,
the whole truth of time gone,
and all the faith, in a modest glimmer.
 
I take off the weight of oblivion,
my whole life encapsulates,
and becomes eternal,
as the salt of your droplets.