The Taste of Heaven

I am floating on the black, frothy wave

of tomorrow's dawn.

I follow the current

of this moldy, wild river

that does not know if it has enough strength

to return to its source.

Seconds are sweet when life

simulates death.

If we do not run out of silence

after yesterday's life,

we will go to the spite of hatred,

we will go to find the lost

rainbow.

You are looking at the seed

of this world resting in the womb

of your hand.

Until time passes, do not look for

vain prayers in me.

I am a bird that will not know the taste

of heaven because it has lost

the Earth from which it could fly.