Old soul


 it is not exactly the revelation of the deterioration processing

it is a loss in little parts that announce through of the nerves some discomfort

is cool

like live in an expensive community shelter

open-day-night

we can use the secure of life and to fish and to live alone in a forest

or sing the forgot songs being grumpy

searching anything that causes

affliction

a lovely forgivable boring senior

pretending blind

or deaf

unbalanced maniac by the cleanliness

a truth soul of right

that hates strangers

family

and the world

which is how I am

I tried to take out the lamp of pole

and?

Are they crazy?

I am someone who came from a place that never was. River water, calm lakes, waterfalls, edges where bushes and trees grow, the open field, the sky reflected in my hands in the trembling mirror of the river, the waits I am, this man lying in the river in the middle of autumn of my existence, loves his children, he likes to be alone, and he has a great company. I leave out the conceptual groups that put their finger on the face and follow fashion. I try not to be like that. In this boat, I am also the water where I sail. I take the sky with me, the fields, the flowers, and the fragrant herbs all my mornings. I am a being of the dawn. The scandal of nature in the voice of a bird, the incessant hum of the bells that insects make. I look like it, but I am not afraid of anything. I do not think I ever was. Indeed, my father, especially my mother, sweetly led me to read and write. I am always primary; I am still learning to read and write, row, and let the boat go safely. pmnt

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