The Hands

You moved by the rhythm,

The rhythm I've created,

I crawled by the movement of a beam,

The beam you have shredded,

Can you feel the heat from the palm of the Cajuputi tree?

Can you see the rhythm of a Half Desert road behind you?

There are no more steps left in the field,

The flowers were already bloomed,

There is no more space in the room,

Only the air that you cut into pieces in the middle of the space,

I wiped your blood, heal them carefully

I wiped your tears, absorbs them into myself

The flower’s bloomed, blooming, blooms as a Pitcher,

Whilst the Sun blooms to the back of the Louvre,

I moved by the rhythm,

The rhythm I’ve reached,

I crawled by the movement of a beam,

The beam I have shared.

#Istdeeart - #Poem