This middle of life
returns to nothingness
above our inner sky
so we can fly against
the flow of shadows.
Meaningless surfing words
scale the summer
meanwhile the time
colapse those mirrors
called selfishness.
We can’t own our individual
tongues because we don’t know
how to speak the universal
language and so on our mutism
becomes frequently shame and sorrow.
But in this middle of life
we reached strong feelings
to broke emotions and cry
when the eagle fly to the top
of our sinners and we met
the silence of being more than
solitude bodies under the sand.

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