love and glory
walking through the paths of the dreams,
the reality of the right now melts into a magic joy,
costumed in the splendid power of stellar dust,
fine pigmented with the stolen moments out of a poem,
identifying my soul as being a medicament, an appetizer
and the scent of some color, even a suffering for lust,
a sweet sound comparable with the fantasies' hymn.
walking through the paths of the dreams,
a touch of the twilight, and of the moonbeam
with the mysterious realm of the night
and the grandeur of the day offered to my spirit,
a gifted tone of a key directed by the mystic air
of a drunken smile, unable to give anything else except
appreciation hid in a tiny story about love and glory.