Millions of years ago
I was born in a dance slow
gathering and touching my sacrifice
on a road of fire and ice,
explosions and diluvian rain
in a ritual of historical pain
where the long road breaking darkness
lead to a powerful mess
full of confusion on a perpetual organization
land of schema and natural invention
where rocks are fire and fire is water
and this was born where I watch her
taking her bath, in that little blue point, painted in a naked room
warmed by a long embracement of the sun to that girl called moon.
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