The words are magic runes: they can build
dreams and wars, love and fate, fairy tales.
Upon ancestral seas they were lives
in the God’s blessing hands, on his mouth
So the Word was with God and was God:
When the Word entered time we were made.
Seven words were the last breath of Christ
while the holy cross took him from here.
Words are life, words are death: we are words
pasted with wishes, hopes, lies and pains.
As a joke I play poor silly words:
I need paint myself so, to not die
June, 7th 2015
The Italian version is here