PANORAMA: IN THE STORM

The Sky is so huge,

And ours eyes, so little...

Why can our world just

Be like we believe?

There so many things...

But I just hold

What amuses me...

What queers me, I let go....

My clearest sky,

To others, is prison;

And their paradise,

To me, more than threaten...

And many clouds,

Fast, come around...

And rains out on

Our sweet houses....

If it can good or bad,

Depends on the drops feed

Our soil or they killed

Our groan by drown us.

How are you and your home?

The planting is (not) done?

Tomorrow, from skies these

We'll see if and how we''ll live.

(Leandro Monteiro)