footprints in the storm...

clay marked by errant footprints
of those who seek a hidden path
in a calm restlessness of an aftermath
of nostalgic melodies in dreams like fingerprints ...

I press on among the comrades and roots,
abstracted from all the noise that surrounds me,
without finding courage in the flowering of the fruits,
who should aromatize a shared tea ...

I watch without seeing the landscape,
in the distance, in the sea, the cape of storms,
pushed by twilight winds that I can not escape,
the glimpse of an angel lost in a thunderstorm ...