To be inspired love

To be inspired love, friends, it is to find the just name of the life.
It's to meet to the end on the word that to face to the death is needed.
It's to recover the secret key that opens the jail where the soul captivates.
It's to get up of the land with a force that claims from above.
It's to breathe the broad wind that over the meat is breathed.
It's to contemplate from the summit of the person the reason of the wounds.
It's to warn in a few eyes a real look that looks at us.
It's to listen in a mouth to the own deeply repeated voice.
It's to surprise in a hands this heat of the perfect company.
It's to suspect that forever, the loneliness of our defeated shade.
To be inspired love, friends, it's to discover where body and soul are joined.
It's to perceive in the desert the crystalline voice of a river that calls us.
It's to see the sea from the tower where our infancy has stayed Prisoner.
It's to support the eyes sadly in a landscape of storks and bells.
It's to occupy a territory where the perfumes and the weapon coexist.
It's to give the law to every rose and at the same time to receive it of your sword.
It's to confuse the feeling with a bonfire that of the chest gets up.
It's to govern the light of the fire and at the same time to be a slave of the flame.
It's to understand the thoughtful conversation of the heart with the distance.
To be inspired love, friends, it's to take possession of the nights and the days.
It's to forget between the moved fingers the absent-minded head.
It's to be reading what the first swallows write in the space.
It's to see the star of the evening for the window of a rural house.
It's to contemplate a train that passes for the mountain, with the flushed lights.
It's to understand perfectly that there are no borders between the dream and the wake.
It's to ignore of that there consists the difference between a sorrow and the happiness.
It's to listen to midnight to the vagabond confession of the drizzle.
It's to spy in the glooms of the heart a small light.
To be inspired love, friends, it's to endure space and time with sweetness.
It's to wake up one morning with the secret of the flowers and the fruits.
It's to be liberated of if same and to be joined to with other creatures.
It's not to know if they are foreign or if they are own of the distant bitternesses.
It's to mend up to the fountain the turbid waters of the torrent of the distress.
It's to share the light of the world and at the same time to share your obscure night.
It's to verify in body and soul that the task of being a man is less hard.
It's to start saying always and forward never returning to say.
It's to discover tender melodies on having shone of a new day.
It's to deliver love without ties.
It's to feel that you can shout to the entire world....... I love you, life mine.
And, it's besides, my friends, to be sure of having the pure hands in a affectionate embrace.