"Small gifts , Tango"

                                                   

                                              " Small gifts , Tango "
                                                                        ( tango )
The freedom of the unpredictable ,
 what actually takes away ,
 One can claim in the dream that you reissued ,
when you already have , the Ego , ravaged .
Other forms of reality,
vain that actually,
perhaps also dream ,
and more accurate than the arrogant Algebra .
Limit the confines of my madness ,
to a despair that continues.
Your valuable being , it is my great demand ,
your laughter , and your bright eyes.

So far ... the only God ,
that given the diverse,
Was revealed to me ...
That left You ... my big baby ...

And now you've been gone ,
 I seek in a plane dream ,
 Often , so common among us ,
pretend ... grab your warm hands ..

The mysterious wisdom of the dream,
I have returned , the warmth of your happy domains .
What frugal " watches Sand "
always were , denying .

Were it not for this,
I already , I would have gone , crazy .
There are those " mystery Fields " ,
where do you, traps to the destination.
One is , with what you have lost ,
 until the cold laws " fascists " , you " go away " .
I responsibility of you, the ways that sums me ,
the few joys , I had left.

The "gifts " are usually greedy ,
which allows God ,
Or that another God, " Azar " .
Both are registered as the most fundamental laws ,
governing ... the vast universe .
The words tired and " Philosophy "
do nothing but stick his " scream hysterically " .
I always look for you in the depths of the cosmos ,
until the end , you always encounter .
And either as to take " Bondi " , the " Astral Travel " ...
For me stand next to your distant "payments" ...

Under the tutelage of sordid infinite space
 not common, this happens ...
But, my fervor has firmness,
 of the "Gods " , more capricious.
 The rigid " axioms " of " Metaphysics "
I am the way ... good for the ass ,
 Who? ... We produce " Conscience"
with these parameters , as enigmatic .
I just get a " placeholder "
I will breathe ,
 the sweet scent of your face,
 to a vacuum , next ...
To me, I never enough,
your lucky memory ...
 And never, I am satisfied,
 until I speak ... Or I touch ...
                                            Daniel H Guasti
                                           pisulinoal@yahoo.com.ar
"bondi" = a bus