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Darkness, sweet darkness
and there is nothing to see;
no more images, no more movies,
no fragments of burning colours,
falling through frameworks,
no sparks in a story,
because there is only silence
and there is nothing to see, only to feel;
the sense  of a dance,  to hear;
how a door goes open, how a breeze
becomes a caress from the days,
of only light, only sky, only wide,
telling you how warm the night;
in beds of gardens where the moon
was a cresent above tender waves,
rolling a song, telling how deep,
how sweet , how long,
when there is nothing to see,
darkness can be sweet
and the burning colours,
are leaking the vicious circles,
speaking rings to wings,
to fly in the morning,
just embrace the space 
a heart might need




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