as every little tiny drop
silently flowing
through the rocks
as a gentle breeze
that moves the sails of the soul
after a night of absolute calm
as the feeble sparkle from an old lighthouse
that indicates the right waves home
while the storm rages all around
of this and many other fragile details
minute elements, tiny gears that move on
the engine of the universe...
the simple thought makes me shiver
no,
I will not pronounce that word in vain
Marco Bo
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