Shadows Poem by Blai gonzalez

Shadows, all turned in green as winter to spring.

- Fine. I'm waiting still.

I can only came through this absentminded path as swallows turning by, in shadows of light cleaning the way, warming those 'till painting's alive.

- I got it now, I guess.

Now, the brief instant of this.

- sparkles of past mixed with the rising future.



Being it, I can finally fill that blank.

- You do.

From this day on, frozen lakes will recover themselves and live fluently as waterfalls.

- Fine. I'm waiting still.

They will be able to find, to find their own way, their not-to-silent-path.

- You didn't finish yet.

They will have a voice, their voice, to claim, to sing.

- Then what?

Expression.

- It's not as simple as it seems, huh?

It's not.

- What are you capable of to find Expression?

I would prefer not to.

- You must.

I know.