Mystery
That milky white horse of grandma,
She used to tell at night on sleeping bed,
With a pair of long silvery wings
Often comes spreading the long wings
To pick me up on its back to you
And a thrilling flight above the smoky clouds ,
That lets to measure the joy of happiness in the blue of tranquility.
In some discrete moments
I appear on the canvas of Leonardo da Vinci
And gradually I lost myself in that mysterious smile,
The same mystery I meet everywhere in disguise ,
Even when I stand in front of a mirror,
A chapter starts turning its pages rather than showing my image.
Never I do, when walk amongst people
Only to feel the chaos of their hearts
What been muffled beneath the rib cage.
It is a quite surprise how ears grasp taciturn feelings
While chortle of laughter slips out.
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