To get old
Getting up one morning
Without thinking about sadness
Which we love almost,
Before

Walk
And no longer see the sea
Without becoming the other
Because one dreams no longer,
Before

Something
In the groove of oblivion
To the thousand splashes
That one sees more than oneself,
Before

Carry
Thousand luminescent rocks
And invisible to the gods
Which are not the same,
Before

Go
Like the fairies
In these cursed tales
Which no longer read,
Before

Before,
Was the wind
Was the trouble
Was the time
And now
here

After

poetry by MrJuan (2017)