when we begin we already know what distance is <br />we see it in the stars we hear it from the Siberian winds <br />we were telling the trees that our beginning was the smile of the snails <br />that the moss have always been faithful to the stones <br /> <br />at the middle we learned the games of the waves and the seagulls <br />there is always the happy chase between respect and dignity <br />like the moon how it sits on the black horizon how it lightens the silence <br /> <br />you want to know the intimacy of the wind and the cliff <br />how they have become almost the same in sonorous sounds <br />sometimes you sense the semblance of surrender <br />not wanting to go on and be the roots of the trees and the grass <br /> <br />i have touched the tips of your hair, though short, but that is enough <br />my wings have fully grown and the winds are waiting <br />i am destined for something else beyond the touch of your hands <br />i do not know how my story shall end, but the voices are assuring <br /> <br />whatever happens, tell me, for once, that you too shall find yourself <br />do not turn back, pursue the end without the trembling, the remorse of pain<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whatever-happens-move-on-pursue-that-end/
