Maturation of a Minute

Now, silence constructs,

in the emptinesses of the commas and ellipses

the glance of a young woman remained perplex,

there's not an old lady behind the window

nor a new born that plants seed.

There are some chipped feet,

that have been hurt by the price of truth,

what consumes the act of living,

that it is the drink of air that never occured.

A girl dressed as a flower

took the hand of the boy who mud dressed,

The vase has broken,

the lie of living through sound.

The sin of hoping, waiting.

The disc turned and with it turned the note,

with the note, the music,

with the music the movement,

The life from the movement

and from the life the lie.

Now silence constructs,

In the emptinesses of the commas and ellipses,

it stays orgasmic the symphony of the error,

the enjoyment of the moment,

The worldly, the vile, the banal, the dynamic

becomes eternal to us

And in the eternal, I encounter the question……

And declare in silence, what it constructs…