I am a distillation process,
turning sage leaves into fragrance,
turning disgusts into knowledge,
turning chaos into arrangements…
Of flowers, dreams and truths,
I am the mystery extracted,
the essence of our youths
strengthened strong but not protracted:
I am the eye of the inner child,
of the approaching hurricane
that kills to comfort the reviled,
to purify the social brain:
I am from where the poet leaps:
the dusty cracks where genius creeps.
urbansonnets 