So cruel is this life that has touched us that our broken souls live in diaspora.
\nYour gesticulations are riddling old beliefs of love in the religion of atheism.
\nAnd just as Zoroastrianism inspired the Christians, you go reigning to the ink of the poet
\nConfiguring my old testament and recreating the ten commandments of my passion.<\/p>\n
So ephemeral was your presence in my garden of Eden that the forbidden fruit devoured
\nAnd after that forty days and forty nights alone on the mound of savannahs I remained
\nAnd so the deluge of your weeping floods the blinds that I decorated with my blood
\nSaving that pair of binary neurons to swim in the ark of your hips.<\/p>\n
At the end of the day your cupid ally was your henchman in releasing the emotions from your dilated pupils.
\nYou opened the cosmic sea that tormented my dehumanized constant of defeats.
\nYou transformed me into that miraculous being who bore your sin and in each nail your pain was diffused.<\/p>\n
So it was that on the third day my passion for your figure was reborn from the lagoons of Hades.
\nAnd my disciples, like nomads, spoke of you in every corner of this white city.
\nEvery silhouette knew of you and as if they were Abraham they did not hesitate to sacrifice their firstborn for you.
\nBut what I needed was for the immortal holy grail to transfigure your virginal figure.
\nTo become the temple of this atheist who bathes in the faith of your succulent gaze.<\/p>\n