|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Dragonfly SoulAnd she flies to me with her Dragonfly Soul
Alighting on my glassy edge
And I pour out
Spreading out into the ever-changing space.
She tipped me over, poured me out
I'm no longer full of form, as once I was.
The deafening crash of my breaking body
Metal and PlasticWe are all metal and plastic
But somewhere on the inside resides a soul
Something usable, not of machine or man.
But yet, we can not use it
We are broken, untouched by the breath of life
For this breath will unlock the soul from deep within us
And we will be free
And all will be well.
But for now, we are all metal and plastic
With nothing to show for our yearning for life
And the world moves one
As it should.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
Keep in Touch!