The spectre and the grave

...And I saw this woman coming to me.



Her face was something familiar to my eyes...that expression blend of tribulation and interminable love; the noble nose.



...That expression...





The day was breaking and the dawn was a song.

The solar aroma had the untransferrable magic of the oxygen running silverly into the hermetic temple of Palas in the middle of the sea.
And the august, solemn emotion of some august and solemn things.

And I was dawn. But specially, I was maybe.

Only I know why I say this.




Then, I saw her as she is, and in part.
I saw her out of time and space, on a dry landscape of yellow meadows under a sky which was so blue, that was metallized.

And she opened herself in life to warm my dream.




A strange and furibund angel from Germany lit the moment.
And he was clad in black wool.
And his wings smelled like acetylene and flesh of stars.


And I was maybe. Maybe...