COROMANDEL

The seed dies in the deep earth and the occultum lapidem decides to grow as a tree spreading like God´s splendour.

At the art gallery, it firstly fascinated me the red of thy dress, which reflected the beauty of thy dark skin dyed by the gleam which sprouts on the very place where the green of the mountains confronts the blue of the sea: the world itself begins at Kerala.

I felt a wish to taste the freshness of thy lips, relish the fleshed tongue hidden in the deep of thy mouth looking for everlasting joy in mine. I felt a wish to caress thy feet in those elegant sandals you wore, same time glancing at thee until both our shines screwed one arround the other, like monsoon finds Ganga at Haridwar and turns into a river, to flow together on a sacred bed which finishes at this place where God is still working on its unfinished project.

I felt thy fine cut presence, solidly levelled, firmly vertical; there it was the Goddess, thou a miracle becoming human in front of my eyes as well as on my heart.

At the Taj I vibrated with the sound of thy joy escaping through thy white and perfect teeth, and I rejoiced for having accepted the challenge of our first rendez vouz.

The Phantom of desire opened again its wings when calling me to the channel of thy chest below the discret and restrained down deep clothing piece, once again a red one, and me there imaging how the runaway of those two gazelles would be, free on sunrise.

At last, at the just premiered place, it could not been any other way: God brought the answer on a tray served by Aitatxu: one kiss and a flower, and a wish birth-given at the shadow of the magic tree of this land, where I look for thee to find both of us one and the same expression of the desire of God.