Poetry Pro Anima

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate,  How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul. - William Ernest Henley -

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he's in there. there's a bluebird in my heart that . wants to get out. but I'm too tough for him,. I say,. stay down, do you want to mess. me up?. you want to screw up the. works?. you want to blow my book sales in . Europe?. there's a bluebird in my heart that. wants to get out. but I'm too clever, I only let him out. at night sometimes. when everybody's asleep.. I say, I know that you're there,. so don't be . sad. . then I put him back, but he's singing a little in there, I haven't quite let him die and we sleep together like that with our secret pact and it's nice enough to make a man weep, but I don't weep

 Al fin quiero llegar pero no hay prisa, caminando juntos, ¿tal vez bajo la brisa?. Sin importar el lugar quiero llegar, importante de tu mano, caminar. Buscando lo desconocido envejecer, juntos aprendiendo lo divino de ser. Uno con el universo nuestras almas, dos pares de huellas junto al mar. -Jw-

Sin querer y sin saber en un rostro estoy perdido, tanto que sí miro, tomaría un nuevo camino.  Sin esperar que me pasara a esta edad no avanzada, me hace sentir mayor, con la esperanza reforzada. Siento que no es lo mismo vivir sin tu mirada, esa que me hace pensar en otro ser, del cual proviene tu color de miel.  Y de esta forma he contado lo que aún no asimilo, que sin querer y sin saber, en un rostro estoy perdido.  -Jw-