Untitled

Few understood the fire

and no one warned those

who walked toward it

or the spectators that gathered

on rooftops and balconies to watch

the wind carry it in dull waves



Every light becomes a celebration

at night when time worn thin

rips under the weight of measuring hands



The beams and walls of houses

now diminished outlines

left open welcoming late guests



Around the fire pit

the air regains its shape

and rests a heavy coat

the relief when darkness gives you warmth

and in its hold there is no need



To be seen a shadow or a body