It comes from a yellow embroidered tent, from closed curtains.
a weightless scent of olive oil. That twirls and fills the air.

Inside … a man of the desert. Nomadic nature, wise heart .

He is so tall and impressive with his almond eyes,with his almond smell…

The people outside waits and wants for one part of him.

The wise man, is reluctant.  He has afraid. He has died for it before and returned to improve the perfect dose …Not too much love, not too much apple…

Men dont accept high amounts of love .

The more he moves making his potion , more intoxicating he becomes. And the air around transformes itself in a irresistible scent.

He has to stop. He dont know but i know…

I am outside, with my potion in hands, that prevents me to attack him, so i am just watching how the people act. I feel the danger in the air.

He lives alone and in a thousand places to avoid people to follow him.
After all

He has the love potion .The power to cure the world.

i see men in ties, women in hysteria.
I heard cries and pleas.
and the wise man in gold appears

a sweet smile  on his lips

and the immediate future
I foresse

some tears dropping on his face….
just sealing his   fate

He released the scent of the love from his hand.

People started to act as crazy. They dont know who to love or who to desire….

who they will rip  in pieces

He remains stand and knowing that he failed

“Men dont deserve  high amounts of love”

I jumped to his side and said:

Not too much love, my love, not with too much loveMan of the desert and clever woman
and i released the scent of apple….

And the mob, maddened
remained at the middle of the way.
Undecided, hesitant.

And as quickly as possible. I took the bottle on his hand
impatient , as i am, I mixed the both and we inhaled the scent
and i shouted with joy
Now we are rich! we are rich!
And he did not understand until these days.


  1. Acho que seus últimos escritos revelam minha própria alma que eu não ter conhecido. Eles acariciar suas palavras, mas também abrir uma fenda como se fossem um bisturi delicado. Mas nada fere fisicamente. Unicamente o fato dói ver nossos sentimentos nus. Sua escrita é SUBLIME. Eu não sei como você pode sentir depois de ter escrito. Talvez uma liberação semelhante uma maternidade. a imagem que você escolheu também é linda. Precisava ouvir “cantos” Djavan, para me tranquilizar. Quero parabenizá-lo, amor.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Você sempre me encanta, ou no seu blog ou quando expressa os seus sentimentos quando lê os meus poemas…. Esse é realmente a mais bonita and touching declaração que alguém já me fez. É um presente Enric. Muito, muito obrigada. Because, when i writte i dont know what i writte and why…. Just jump out from me. With love and gratitude . Poetheart.


  3. Hello. What a nice see you here…. I dont know where it comes from. i have so many things inside me. Each one has one face and demands something. I hope you can help me. Kisses.


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