A Heart Furnished with Violins

He went back to all the places he once belonged

to clean them of his former sadness.

He gently poured a lot of kindness,

enough grams of love and some understanding

on times, on humans and on the lands,

that at those times inspired his journey.

He entered the streets he used to walk on for hours and hours

while talking to the stones,

those earlier viewers of his joy, his smile and his courage to fly.

He sang both old and new songs sorted by his inner voice

then he danced before the passers-by despite the fact that

they were hurrying to draw their own maps of silent oceans.

The smell of the air inspired him and he asked

the sky for dark colors.

So, the rain started.

It was there that the rain has cleaned his heart.

Since then his heart is furnished with violins

that play as he wakes up in the morning.

Violins do not catch the boredom’s appraisal

that try to mount itself from time to time

in the space between him

and the first person at past perfect time.