Gacela of the Flight

Often I lost myself in the sea, my ears filled with fresh-cut flowers my tongue filled with love and anguish. Often I lost myself in the sea, as I am lost in the hearts of children. No one when giving a kiss fails to feel the smile of faceless people. No one who touches a newborn child, forgets the immobile skulls of horses. Because the roses search the forehead, for the toughened landscapes of bone, and Man's hands have no fate, but to imitate roots, under the ground. As I am lost in the hearts of children, often I lost myself in the sea. Ignorant of water, I go searching, for death, in light, consuming me.