Being a poet is a job

In visions suddenly appear 

Within days 

Is working

that stole work 

from other works

Other lives

I had to abandon 

Because poetry is a daily process

Of any universes 

Within any men.

Making poetry 

Is being hold from the world: I listen.

Remain only the searching 

Of stay settled 

Society that deaden

In street who live of dreams

And as sleepwalkers living

In chains. 

Oh Poetry

Working for you 

Of my soul I will be repaid! 

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