Dressed in quartz, dressed in alphabets, dressed in unleashed plots;
They have lost the jacket of words,
Been accumulating them so long, in so many monsoon nights,
Tonight they have devoured the sonorous thunders of pride.
Hopelessly tearstained they stand amidst
Unfathomable explosions of wounded chimes in abandoned temples.
They witness vacillation of customary solutions
To embellished music of sounds and words.
A poetic wilderness has been breaking the waters
To reason with the unreasonable dismay, solitude and silence;
Surfaced, seeking its own space amidst the flaming constellation of noteworthy expressionism
Translating the absence, the salt, the bitten into a midnight souvenir of poetry
Yet awaiting the promises of a new delightful Mañana*
*Morning in Spanish
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