The secret
The secret of our love will never be found out.
Discretion hides it in a wood of veils
and no one understands what is beyond
the depths of darkness in the heart of wilderness,
the thickness of the forest density
where everything becomes a jungle
of impenetrable mystery and fathomless concealment
where we dwell together with our dreams
refusing to wake up to this aborted world
of unacceptable absurdities and artificial madness
where the only human people are outsiders
who refuse to deal with or have anything to do
with the demented bolting universal lunacy
which dominates our brave new world's society
and forces everyone to dehumanization
and denaturalization speeding up the general degeneration.
But our love can never be infected by it,
and our friendship goes beyond their reach
immune to any effort of debasing it
from its consummate level of perfection
guarded by its secret of discretion.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2007-03-10 at 12:20
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