How do you search that you never find?
Where is your North?
Where is your mind?
Where are the lights that guide your feet?
And the signs that mark your street?
And the candles in your altar?
And the rocks beneath your bed?
And the pennies from your eyes that someone took while you lay dead?
How do you think without a brain?
Where is your reason?
What is your game?
Where is this discourse leading me?
Where are the answers I can’t see?
And the tears that cloud my eyes?
Are they clouds that fill the sky?
And the million and one times I tried to save you from your head?
I am the candelabra in the room…
I light the way for you who soon,
like early morning flowers,
needing acid rain,
will need to bloom
in gardens deep in caverns
of rock and gold and steel,
in rooms within damp castles
never wanting what you feel,
and you feel lonely, bored, forgotten,
because you never were what you have been…
The poorest form of nostalgia
Is to reminisce what never was…
C.2023, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 23 May 2023, Valencia, España)
JaZzArt en València 
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Wow! Francisco this went in unexpected places.
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Where the roads of poetry are supposed to go…
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Thank you so much Pat!
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Por nada. 😉
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This is simply wonderful!
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Thank you so much Luisa!
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You’re more than welcome 🌹
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🌹
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🙂 🙂 🙂
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🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
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Loved this, my friend!
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Thank you Brad, very much!
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