All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are.

We the mortals touch the metals, the wind, the ocean shores, the stones, knowing they will go on, inert or burning, and I was discovering, naming all the these things: it was my destiny to love and say goodbye.

In you is the illusion of each day. You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers. You undermine the horizon with your absence. Eternally in flight like the wave.

Our love was born outside the walls, in the wind, in the night, in the earth, and that's why the clay and the flower, the mud and the roots know your name.

Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.

It was at that age that poetry came in search of me.

But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.