Touch

I wish i could touch

My life through the passing landscape.

Just through my eyes,

The story unrolls

And leaves no mark.

It is not forgotten

What made today singular

But not material

And only mine.

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Bumpy life

In a busy life of words and actions
The difficulty is observing in silence and discovering
What is recurrent.
Randomly bumping the elbows to corners and pains,
We leave a trail that tells our story
And passes often through points of significance.
Few points with value
Are like benches where to feel at home
And safely alone.