The Spell

[onacarom]

The Spell

I hunt rays in the storms
while truth burns behind
that truth that is already smoke
and that you will never know

nothing will come out of my mouth
nothing to break the glass
of the mirror in whose spell
you and me look at us

I hunt rays in the storms
while mouths of past
drown
in the evaporated water
that escaped from the flames

Nothing more fits in that mirror
but the earth and sky of your kisses
and the water and fire of my clouds