to deserve the beginning of the world
we have to shout behind every bar that confines freedom
and then contemplate from within the fear and joy of being alive
and so slowly, gently touching
the shape of the infinite
that we can perceive
like a shiver on our skin
from our little cell lost in the outskirts of the universe
where all of us without distinction
are so small, so fragile
we are joy and fear
masters and slaves of a gust of wind
under this gray suburban sky
Marco Bo
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