May it be that a light so ill as that of a yellowish radioactive cloud bring us to the Light?
May it be that this torsion in the stomach pushing me to devour anxiety, pushing me to vomit horror and spit fury bring me to a new awakening?
Another and another awakening and another and another fall
Energy to buy to steal to drain to ransack by war  
A body diminished to gasoline car
A body diminished to tremors on the skin and in the heart, to endless arguments, to masked weaknesses, to a continuous Russian roulette.


And the fortune of the door of the Gods opening:

->on one side the Apocalypse the disaster the sorrow the pain

walls developing cracks
corners crumbling
windows as dead eyes, broken glasses
plastic sheets screaming
incessantly beaten by the wind
faces wrinkled fearing burnt
feet marching, holes in the shoes
aimlessly leading fragments of families

->on the other side a gentle hummingbird wind caressing my soul

that walks sweating a not burning not smelling sweat, between stones and dirt, between scrubland and highways
feet flying between shut airports and green orchards
invisible inaudible
feet with wings that with time and love will slip to the shoulder blades
the awakening of the warrior of peace, of the calm flowing.
Clinging now to the fragility of my mood
as to a glass blade incessantly stricken by the wind
in a collection of fragile overflowing moments
glass blades weaved together to form a roof
so strong as to resist the acid and radioactive rains.