I have a dream ...
... and my mind is in the desert .
A desert lonely and infinity .
I make a dream ...
... and my heart is the music of my voices .
The voices telling me what to write .
I love my sonnets ...
They are my dreams .
I stop the moments only using my imagination .
And the moments are future , past, and present ...
Are tomorow, yesterday and today ...
I wait a passion since my first sonnets .
I write the passion , today I know this !
(Eber Vasconcelos)
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Musicial!
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