Mom

Mom, how are you do you do?

Mom, I love her, true. Her beautiful name, the name you gave to her. Her way of being and being, Her thoughts, sometimes somewhere, others times some how lost, lost in thoughts, true. The things she does, not so much, fishing, walking in outdoors all alone, kissing nature with her sweetness and beauty,  camping, hunting, What more does she do?*

What should I do?

I like her way of being and being 

I like the way she is and how she behaves. Those sparkling blue eyes, transparent, pure and firm in their  place. In place of her simplicity, sweetness, innocence and love. Her thoughts are right there, in the surface, at the alter, in the heavens. Are evident and clear. Others, sometimes deep, hidden, like it was a secret, a hidden thought and a hidden wish, me me me. In mystery, within secrecy and mystery. Which sometimes take me to uncertain places, to unknown places, which make me think and question her thoughts. What is she thinking? Where is she in those moments. I like her pink lips, the things they tell me when they whisper, tear and kiss my eyes. Visions I have when I look at the horizon, at the mountain sky. The color and style of her hair too, when the wind, rain, love and lightning strike 

I like her physical features, her naked clothes and definitely her declared innocence. And I'm sure that she will not like me as I like her.

Mom, could you please tell her to stop doing these things to me. 'Cause I can't stop doing the things I say and do. I think you already know something about me. Who am I, what I say and do. I'm no one, a nobody and I say and do nothing in my life. 

I'm like the Beast is my life and the beauty is my being.

And I´ll not present any excuse, say sorry, mom, sorry father for my words and the christmas presents, 

And give an apology but to love her. Which is what I´m doing, loving her, giving love to her. It´s not someone´s fault, it´s a thing and what life is all about, love. 

Love me or not, love what I say and do, please do not.

Things and the truth is out.

I want out

Out there in the farm, a wonderful place to be and live.

There´s a written word in the garden, love. Find it and you´ll find me.

White and blue where the wind blows and one ring sings.

One