o amor jamais morre.., Paulo Coelho

o amor jamais morre de morte natural geralmente morre de sede porque nos esquemecos da fonte.

Paulo Coelho
                         

more photos from my journey home from Italy

towards easter

the boats still drawn up.
slowly sun-glassed vandals nearing.
at five the bells chime,
they toll for you and me.
bloody friday is ahead.
the lambs, they do not know.
the sea does not care,
waves are like half-gods,
for them all belongs
to their orchestra,
they drown the light,
they sacrifice the night.
silence spreads only inside,
not always with a smile.

beauty~

death is not far
but as near as me.

this wild beauty of
untamed animals,
the sea, i absorb but
will not jump, not
into the boiling waters,
my skin scraped, my
flesh torn open, my
bones cracked on
stones-

i stay still.
seeing beauty close,
so close to death.
beauty so close to
me and inside.

wildness to break
structure and form
for reshaping, all cosmic
rhythm, essence of
elements and me:

only love can tame us,
free us to live.

beauty remains wild,
like fire and water
it will open prisons,
destroy what is in the way:

love will open gardens
for beauty to run free.