The bird

On the dark veil, of a monotonous clearness. Fall the tears from the autumn. Flooding a ground without sun, lends to one winter without similar. Fly away the bird. So far, so beautiful. Leaving for other following days. Bringing the dream easy to be carried by its slender wings. Beating the evils of time, breaking its stinks. Given up on the ground without remorse. Skeletons of lives crashed to pieces by a dead daily newspaper. Accumulated concern, playing with the culpability. Fertilizing the stench. Of a fight of each day, mother of so much of sufferings. Fly away the bird. So far, so beautiful. Beyond the clouds barring the horizon. Preventing from projecting itself towards projects. Opposing only the mediocrity of a fate to him. Denounced without concession by the simple vision. Of an escape towards another elsewhere. Perhaps not better. But, leaving still with the bird the hour choose the grounds of its happiness.