The joy of reunion



Hands touching hands,
people singing in a beach of gold
little clouds floating
among thousands of souls.
Me and all of you
dancing
on a mountain of sounds.

The falcon's poem


I miss you
I miss your eyes
those impossible blue of
all sky’s,
your way of looking
without fear or lies.
I miss your arms
those arms I never felt before,
your embrace made of fire,
that touch made all in gold.
And I’m sitting just there
where the dreams sleeping to
thinking about those eyes,
thinking of you.

The wolf and the falcon

The wolf is crying up there
to where the mountains have moved,
the cry of the winds despair
bring him memories of the days
when the light was so soft,
when the cold was away.
The rocks touched him
transforming is walk in pain;
the falcon looks
up there in the high high of the sky’s
full of sweet love he is crying
flying to touch his eyes.
The wolf looks at that bird
that strange figure of tender
and the mountains above
look at them in wonder.
Oh the wolf and the falcon
walking together ; flying
with all the blood so warm
above the rocks, shinning.