When you go you take with you the music.

I am left with that solitary moment of injustice inquiring oneself.

Of a rhythm occupying palpitations that waver blood into a certain sea of red entering the stratosphere…

 

There I sink and live in my liveliest.

 

There, I sleep within a maddening cocoon. Dreams yearn the chisel of your rough hands…Fluorescent fish and waves harbor a dance from your silhouette...How you shimmer...

 

Moving.

Your soul singing silent holograms.

 

© Mimi Caneda Mata