In southern Utah, the violet-green swallows leap in the air like dolphins, and suddenly the desert sparkles resembling an ocean; it’s as picturesque as a gothic church with those pinnacles looking like faces shaped by time. The sky is so blue that I think it must be heaven.
The red roads of Utah twist and dig into the land of old stories, felt and told by the breath of the horizon which caresses my face. The arches draw doors from which I catch a glimpse of the infinite laying in front of me. Under a glorious sun, the swallows are now riding the sky, pulling all my dreams behind like crackling falling stars, and down here I'm eager to grow wings to follow them.
Oh, America! You're such a gem with your great landscapes and beauties that I'm lucky to behold! I've brought a burden inside of me for a long time, but now I'm stepping on you so lightly that I feel like I'm floating in the sky along with your swallows. From now on, my poems will be about you too, America; I let you drag me into your blazing core of splendor, and now I'll draw you in my own geometry of words and pictures – at least, as long as my soul keeps climbing the awesomeness I stumbled upon.
Jan 13, 2022