find him, yes.
Our kiss. Will
on a bed of clouds,
glass or coals? Is this
next minute,
or tomorrow, or
century to come, or at the edge of
same as ever?
"Live, dead? Do you know?
How your flesh and mine,
with my name and yours? Or is
be
and other lips, other names
and centuries later, this
is wanting to be here today now?
We do not know.
know it will be.
That something, yes and someone invent this love
without land or where land undated
now:
the great love in the air.
and maybe behind the curtains
years
kissed skies we have ever seen,
shall, without the knowledge of those who believe
pass,
beyond her glory,
the compliment, finally that kiss
impatient waiting I see you,
throbbing lips. Today
our kiss, your bed,
are only in faith.
P. Salinas
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