A song

And what does it matter after all. Pull you up, room of you. Lift your eyes, without thinking about anything. Open them and see all that light that comes from the sky like music. Breathe it with desire, that to the bottom of your dark lung it breaks through. If you receive it without fear and passively leave… Continue reading


Is there no beauty

in the slow wither

of things,

once exultant of life?

How not to be moved

by the brilliance of the moment, Eternal,

that will never come back?

The glow of autumn

silent putrefaction precedes

in which the seeds germinate

of a spring, already present, but

invisible yet.

Dokushô Villalba

14 nov. 2020