Changing Places

The terrain of hope will swim with the grey clouds taking dreams from one eyelid to another. The clouds paint the narratives of a child, lost in the hands of time. They carry words of pain and smile to places where the thirst of soil screams in the killing silence of night. The clouds sailed at the harbor of Kalidasa search for your silences. A silence that speaks when I am tired, when I am lonely and when I am lost in the wilderness of a full moon night.The evening falls on my shoulder, changing places to meet the little damsels with wings. The wings that take them from the fertile land of image and notion to paint imaginations. The subtle fingers of evening make my bed where I sleep to share a life, changing places. When the rainbow takes the flight from my terrain to yours, changing places to continue our episode of fantasy. A fantasy that dies the death of moment. Moments that curl like baby fingers to lose themselves in my dreams.