King (57)

I crave to become small, small,

the smallest I can be,

to enter in your pocket,

to always be with you, wherever you’ll go.

Maybe I don’t deserve your love,

you’re pure perfection, God of my every sunshine.

you’re the brightness of the day and the mystery of the night,

you and only you can become the Son of life,

and I’ll be your beloved self,

in this eternity and in the rest of them.

I promise to love you in each reality

they’ll ever build.

I’ll bring you the Sun and all the sugar inside,

the knowledge tree and the river of beliefs,

to make you feel the King of all Universes

and the Master of my heart.


Writing a poem a day for 1 year. This is lucky number 57. Thanks for reading.

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