Walking among the paths of life, that leafy leaves many paths to see, those that although they look the same go somewhere else, the green ones make us forget those that have led us to stumble, but with everything and that are made of thorns they have left in the face a gray that teaches to tread on the firm ground in other days, new they are, but it is a reflection where the steps are the school for the walker who makes way, sometimes we go through the branches to avoid the thorns that follow us to try to prick the feet that straight follow their destiny.
Although violence has been renounced, and it is sought to keep the path steady, the wolves do not want us to be shepherd dogs that defend the sheep, those that have been born from our being for love, the wolves say they are sheep but their fangs show their nature . Again we return to the path and as a good student we move away from the storm that muddies the road, yes, we continue after getting up from that stone on the forehead, the bump reminds us that we are different and that one day we take another path, keep walking, because your steps are the glass that shows how the flower sprouts after the drought, small and slow is that step, but one by one the advance of your feet forms the tepuy where the angel jumps and lets his smile kiss the breeze.
More and more humility awakens by serving the pen to write the history of these days, we know that there is still a long way to go, way, you who are spirited do not knock down the rider who is learning the goodness with your verses in a repeated dream, we return, an invisible return that does not allow us to learn from that school where we return and return, life, why don't you clearly show the old path that sprouts and sprouts in the leaves that are born each cycle? we are not everything, leaf that flies in the wind of the days, learn from the dream that speaks to you and I speak many times in the dream where you live.
We walk and walk without stopping the step in this story, we do not want to see that we are children of our children and parents of ours, grandparents who end up over and over on the same path, but now we begin to wake up, awakening, is there where The reflection is shown in front of the mirror of the water where it shows our parents looking at the face of the grandfather and he in turn looks at yours when looking at the reflection of that mirror in another mirror that opens the window, thus showing a long row of his face.
The water does not stop, it always runs and runs in search of the sea and the sea moves, making in that dance its fate a drop that again goes to the river, girl: simple, pure and humble that is both sea and river . You and me, he and we all breathe.
Hello earthlings, yes, it is me again, the same madman in love with the moon, who dares to write what the voice tells him, I am not a poet, only a madman, who only reveals the depth in the simplicity of a drop . Today again I bring you a small poem of those that I like to write, simple or short-winded, but that carry the greatness of daring to say what the soul thinks, without fear, because I am not a poet, I just want to arrive one day to be a drop that reaches the sea, because dreaming costs nothing, so why not dream? I hope that the photographs and the poem will make you dream, that is my intention with those doodles that I wrote, if you smile, it will achieve my goal, even if it is a small or a big smile. Remember, you are my reflection in front of the mirror and if you smile I will and the world will be happy.
Nota-Note
Bilingüe: Que utiliza dos lenguas al mismo nivel o se hace en dos lenguas
Bilingual: That uses two languages at the same level or is done in two languages.
Lent: Leica 1: 2.8-3.7 / 7.4-88.8.
Location: Villa de Cura.
Original photographs of willsaldeno, I do not edit the photos, because I like to put only what I achieve with the camera and not something improved with an editor.
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