If they steal the Sun from you,
the stars,
the moon.
If the wind stops
without touching you
The nostalgia of the life
falls dropp to dropp
turned into shy longings.

One to one
the images wake up
that slept you knew
and you do not remember.
They stretch themselves of the lethargy
of the subconscious
in which they were caught
and execute the mysterious dance
of the desire that in the chest becomes huge

How to teach the dreams how to speak?
How to understand his messages?
How to listen to the voice
that flaps its wings, fearfull?
How to deny to a dream
the possibility of bewitching us?

And without realizing
the certainty of the unreal thing
opens the doors for the reality
in order that an illusion is born.