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I have replaced the ink in this pen
with the essence of my soul.
Its purpose is now my own.

Like a planted seed, inside this pen
my mind has grown.
It's expanded and reached,
Places this world had never shown.

Beyond the limits of my imagination
to stain the white virgin remnants,
of earth's still titan ancients.

These thoughts infuse themselves to words
and become a looking glass,
Capable of reflecting the flame of these yearning eyes,
In constant search of Sophia.

The sound of words
shuffling each other
fighting one another,
to earn their place in these lines –
this is our symphony.
It belongs only to this pen and me.

As ‘la luna’ continues to smile;
The sound of footsteps increases
To express this gratitude –
Triumphant, although trapped,
Within the broken flow of sentences,
the meaning - sound - and feel, of words.