My Soul Becomes Tender. Poem by cristobal obregon silvertop

My soul protests, i want it whole, perfect i want to grip it feed it with loves message, in my hand, and reject the garbage, and the past. Amid the derisory torments that the world produces, and which affects, and since i pray to the god of love and receive his reverences, and am transported, higher, and then i see the vision of paradise, my destiny.I have held my soul, and carefully, formed it in space, entering, its space, it confessed its secrets, and my spirit, travelled to a place where my love could be realised. She was like a picture of Rubens, all soft tones of brown, reds that excited, blues that made you nostalgic, and when you looked at her face you were taken away, i don't know were, to the abbys, or to heaven, shall we float in the breeze, follow the line of fate. Shall we doubt, the coins.