eyes fixed on the distant horizon cut the air
hands closed in the evening light closes the curtain
this was a perfect day and yet the flavor is of regret
perhaps we do not know by heart
that the eternal is all incuded in one breath to the wind
in moving away our eyes from nothingness
and for an instant meet other eyes
other hands on the stage of the day
and together tear off the curtains and then rest
rest
rest
since, as far as we know under this sun
under this grey suburban sky
the show may
not must go on, no!
it may
not must ,
it may
regret is a slap to the heart
so
come what may
Marco Bo
http://cantidallaperiferiadelmondo.blogspot.it/2015/05/lo-spettacolo-non-deve-continuare.html



























