under this suburban sky
I put on stage the journey and not the arrival
because a solitary spark
does not heat a breathless heart
below these clouds swollen with anger and sorrow
I play the clasped hands and feet beating on the ground
and I find peace in the moment before
the one not told
among the folds of a dream of glory and the peace of remembrance
under this grey sky, in the storm I stop and breath
fate will be pleased
and will wait for me
Marco Bo

