If I was to talk of regrets, I believe that I regret the fact that I have not yet and more beautiful and true stories, from my life, of storied.

For that the beautiful stories are the real ones. Are those who have already spent. And which are with real people.

And I believe that you must not go to the end of the world for the real stories, true, but you must look around, in men.

People  keep their stories in their heart. You only have to enter at their heart as to tell you. Ie you must become friend with them, for as to hear stories of life.

*

A poem from the volume The Maturation of Poetry, a volume of poetry yet not published.

Did you like this? Share it: