And then, after the quiet solitude...

Exactly like a volcano bursts out in fire

the tip of the iceberg breaks and falls

just in a fragile fraction of a second

without a warning at all,

you broke the soldier's shield.

And a day's not a day if I can't see your eyes,

and the nights stay empty, cold, if I don't have your words.

You make me lose myself, flirting with irreality,

dancing upon the precipice, fearing the loss of that what I don't own.

And it's you, bright and colourful flapping of wings

flying all over my garden

pecking on my bark with the patience of an artisan

moulding the sculpture to your convenience, your desire.

Maybe the etimology of your being goes back to the same place and time as mine,

sometimes I have the feeling I've spent ages chasing after your shadow,

illogic illusion, that dances sneaky in in my mind.

Ideal mate, unthought, you hurry my pulse with the rush of the unexpected.