my own seas are not fated
to call toward deep nesses
their hurried ebbs carry out
the eternal failure
incomplete storms wander
the bottled message of the trial
to survive to the own contradictions
my own seas are fated
to erode the rocky shores
shaping ludicrous figurines
trying to imitate of soul carvings
as if it wouldn’t be enough
lacings of calcified bones
bedeck its sandy shores
I try to harmonize their tides
with the atmospheric ones
and thus to close them
under the obedience’s lid
the departure is the unique instant
that consents the lovely
happening of had been