Details

Details - Detalhes

Drops of paint, rain, chocolate;

 shadows on the grass, the walls, the window.

 Small poetry, in the simplicity of

 day by day, so secluded in a universe

 parallel to its last existence.

 Everything is singular, but also plural;

 divine essence that travels between clear skies and dark nights;  lost in fierce silence and silent voices.

 Everything is unique.. And we, too plural.

Y.

03:40hs.

17/11/2019.