The scales of the clouds gave me their blessings. Therefore, with my bare hands, I built my ship and I launched it into the sky.
Engine pumped by my blood. Sail hoisted by my soul. Deep inside the breath of the first ancestral night my eyes, hour glasses, measuring 30 seconds at the time.
The sky vanished. The axis mundi tilted.
I braved the galactic winds solely to find that thought of yours: your first thought when you set eyes upon me.
Lulled by the sighs of a suicidal piano, the time disappeared in another dimension.
The meaning of all things, never to be found only in one thing, spoke your thought:
“I want that woman to love me.”
Like a somnambule, inverted upon herself, or perhaps like a soldier who forgot the purpose of her battle, I turned my ship around, and I navigated toward you.
The second ancestral night.
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