59. Expectancy
No one knows that I love you
and perhaps not even you,
or do you feel my trembling tenderness
vibrating clandestinely in the air?
I try to capture yours, but I am captive in my own
and can not separate them from reality,
while yours are based on tender memories
of facts of words that you have spoken
and that never can be taken back;
for words of love are valid for eternity
since they because of love are truth itself
and the truest possible of truths forever.
There we are, exposed and outcast to our love
which we as artists are to form into some kind
of lasting continuity, creativeness and beauty.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2006-08-27 at 12:16
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