Magnificent the day was synaesthetically
in harmony with the sunshine
whose its caress led that flower’s conscious
to gravitate towards the reality, leaving behind
the slumber which believed that was yet night
therefore it’d reign a bit longer over the flower’s unconscious.
So still -but faithful- the flower embraced the day
and dived into its beauty in its entirety
which, in turn, comprised love and whatnot;
for at first sight its heart wouldn’t turn away
glancing just at what blinded it
the flower wouldn’t help falling and the arrow
immediately left the bow and shot at the flower’s object as well.
Everything was coming up roses:
the trips around the sky -through the clouds- were regular,
the colour’s metamorphose depended upon their mood
and the sand would always switch over to the colour of their cloth,
mere pampering from the Cupid;
However, because even for the flowers
eternity stands for the day that the illusion decides to shed its façade,
the day turned into night, and the slumber then angry, simply walked away
leaving behind the flower that desperate wouldn’t even sleep
in order not to see the mirage that it loved fading to nothingness:
the moon wrapped by dark clouds conquering the sun -its previous godmother-,
the beauty and its whole bit -then vein beings- wandering without its essence, love.
It was carnival! The illusion just decided to perform a prank on the flower instants before began.
© Todos os direitos reservados