El Lago Poem by Eduardo Jacobo Miranda Garcia
El Lago
La palabra sube y sale por la boca sin haber pasado antes por los pensamientos.
El pensamiento baja y se pierde en la tierra sobre la que estoy parado.
Crece un rio de pensamientos que termina en una cascada.
Y de la cascada crece un lago y en el quisiera nadar.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
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4/19/2024 8:07:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
